


The Marvels

by TotalAwesomeness



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Gen, Incest, Oral Sex, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7581667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalAwesomeness/pseuds/TotalAwesomeness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol Danvers adopts six-year-old Harry Potter, after the latter had been abandoned by the Dursleys in New York City. After what starts off as a close mother-son relationship, a much more intimate and taboo relationship blossoms years later. (Covers an alternate third and fourth year at Hogwarts)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Marvel

**New York City, August 18th 2016**

Anybody who lived in New York City would all say one thing in common: it was never boring. It seemed as if every corner contained at least one super battle. Of course, a lot of people were terrified, but after the Registration Act was almost passed, maony began to truly appreciate their heroes. However, there were always going to be those who despised supers no matter their goodness which was why six-year-old Harry Potter found himself abandoned in the chaotic city.

Initially, the Dursleys had planned to leave "the freak" at home, while they would be in New York City for Vernon's business meeting for Grunning's Drills. Unfortunately for Harry, who was rather looking forward to being home alone, the Dursleys felt that Harry would "blow up the house" or take advantage of his temporary freedom (Harry did admit in his head that he would have done the latter). Plus, it would have been nice to get away from his Uncle and Dudley's fists, while also not being starved and neglected by his aunt. Thus, Harry was literally dragged along to New York City with the Dursleys, but – Harry thought optimistically – at least he would see New York City for real. Unfortunately, Harry would then learn to be careful what you wish for, when the Dursleys decided to abandon him, their laughter loud and mocking as they sauntered away.

That was two days ago.

Harry, who was already skinny with scrawny knees and smaller than his age would suggest, was almost skin and bones now. For the past two days, his only sources of nourishment were what restaurants had thrown away, with the occasional free snack from those kind enough to take pity. His messy jet-black hair was filthy, and his naturally pale skin had turned sickly, as if death had already claimed him. Even Harry's usually bright green eyes seemed dulled, by living on the streets. The only thing that remained the same was the scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt.

To make matters worse, a flaming car came hurtling towards him, as he tried to use his 'magic' ("there is no such thing as magic!" Uncle Vernon had shouted), to steal a leftover cupcake from an abandoned café table. Harry could only shut his eyes and use his pale, scrawny arms to shield himself waiting for the end.

* * *

33-year-old Colonel Carol Danvers aka Ms Marvel was patrolling the area via flight near Grunning's Drills HQ, when she saw the rather large explosion occur originating from within the building. Carol was six-foot tall with long, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes that showed wisdom and a strong sense of command. Her uniform as 'Ms Marvel' was a black leotard with a yellow lightning bolt going down the middle of it as well as a red sash around her waist. Black, thigh-high boots and a black domino mask completed the outfit. The leotard was practically skin-tight and showed off Carol's amazing hourglass figure. Her large breasts seemed as if they were struggling to break free from the leotard.

Not to forget an ass that would make Kim Kardashian envious (especially because it was real), along with a flat yet toned stomach and long legs that seemed to go on forever, made Ms Marvel a source of envy for many women around the world. The statuesque superheroine could easily have become a supermodel (" _should_ have" as her misogynistic father had said) but instead Carol had decided to pursue her dream of joining the U.S. Air Force. Therefore, after years of training, Carol achieved her dream which eventually led to becoming Ms Marvel after exposure to Kree technology. Although, as of late, Carol was thinking of changing her costume for something more 'family-friendly and to stand for something else besides sex appeal.

Floating several feet above the source of the explosion, Carol surveyed the site and breathed a sigh of relief that no-one was around. That sense of relief was short-lived when she saw a flaming car catapulted by the explosion and on a direct path to a young, malnourished boy. However, before Carol could get halfway to the boy, a blue dome-shaped, transparent shield suddenly protected the boy from the projectile.

"What the-?"

Carol took a step forward, only to swiftly dodge an attacking doombot and then punch its head into the ground in a shower of sparks. She then turned towards the explosion, only to see at least half a dozen more doombots ready to attack.

_Guess we know the source of the explosion._

The doombots rushed towards Carol, who quickly got into a battle stance. She punched the first doombot into the ground and then threw its body into another doombot. When the remaining four fired lasers at her, Carol easily absorbed their energy before firing back and destroying them. Unbeknownst to Carol, another doombot was behind her and lunged.

"Watch out!" Harry called out, dropping his shield and raising his right arm at the doombot.

Carol pivoted to face the doombot, only to get a face full of explosion when the doombot exploded. Thankfully, due to her invulerability, Carol merely blinked when it exploded a few feet away from her face. She then turned to face Harry, who looked ready to bolt at any second.

"Are you okay?" Carol asked gently, as she floated down in front of him.

Harry nodded. "What's your name, kid?"

At first, Carol thought that he would not answer and simply bolt – not that she could not stop him. Yet, after a few minutes of tense silence, he spoke with a timid smile.

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Carol smiled and crouched down to his eye level.

"I'm Ms Marvel. That was a cool trick you did back there."

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Harry's timid smile fell and fear became apparent in his bright green eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Carol noticed that Harry's eyes were darting across the street for a quick getaway.

Carol frowned. He had done nothing wrong, and yet judging by the fear of God swimming in those bright green eyes, Harry was downright _afraid_ that she was going to be angry or upset.

"You don't need to apologise, Harry. You would have saved my life if I wasn't so invulnerable." Carol could see that he was still in doubt. "You did a good thing, Harry."

At this encouragement, Harry relaxed significantly and cracked a small smile, which Carol thought was pretty cute. However, she frowned and narrowed her eyes when she took in Harry's malnourished state and rags for clothing.

"Where are your parents?" Carol's frown deepened when Harry shook his head. "Uncles? Aunts?"

From the look of intense fear from Harry at the mention of Aunts and Uncles, Carol could feel dread develop inside of her. That dread was rapidly replaced with fury when she took a good look at Harry and saw several small, thin scars that looked quite a few years old near his left shoulder. You did not have to be Reed Richards to make a connection!

"Harry, I'm going to take you to a nearby hospital, to check for any internal injuries," Carol explained gently. Harry stiffened. "I will not let anything happen to you."

"Promise?"

Carol's heart broke at the softness and vulnerability in Harry's voice, as he looked into her with those terrified bright green eyes. Harry's aunt and uncle were never EVER going to get their hands on him again! Not if Ms Marvel had anything to say about it!

"I promise, Harry. Now, hold on tight."

Carol picked Harry up so that he could wrap his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist. He was so light that – even without super strength – Carol would have found it heartbreakingly easy like she did now. Harry burrowed his face against her neck and began to cry, continuing to do so even after they had landed in front of the hospital entrance.

"We're here, kid."

Harry blushed, as he slowly let go of Carol and shakily stood next to her, as they entered the hospital – tightly holding her hand as they did so.

"Are you okay, Ms Marvel?" Harry asked timidly, his eyes still cautious and wary of the surroundings.

Carol smiled at him while internally in disbelief that Harry was asking about her well-being when _he_ looked almost like the living dead.

"I'm fine, Harry. I have been through worse in the decade – ten years." Carol clarified at the look of confusion in Harry's face. "I became Ms Marvel when I was twenty-three, so yeah I am old."

"But you aren't old!" Harry objected, thinking that Carol was serious. "You look way younger than..." He mentally added ten to twenty-three. "... Thirty-three."

Carol grinned, and Harry blushed. "Well, aren't you a charmer!"

They turned a corner, only to face a middle-aged man wearing a fabulous red cape and several mystical ornaments on his being. He was tall – two inches taller than Carol – and gave off an arrogant yet also humble aura. His black hair was greying along the sides, and yet his face showed few signs of aging, especially if you knew his real age.

"Jesus, Strange!" Carol glared at the smirking sorcerer, while Harry's grip on her hand tightened. "I have company."

Dr Steven Strange's smirk was replaced with a thoughtful frown, as his eyes took in the sight of Harry and then the infamous scar.

"Come with me." The Sorcerer Supreme motioned to the adjacent unoccupied hospital room.

Harry did not budge, despite a part of him saying that he should go into the room. His feet were rooted to the spot, until Carol bent down to his eye-level with a mixture of concern and sympathy in her sharp, blue eyes.

"You can trust him, Harry. Steven may be manipulative sometimes, but he is a good guy. He's a superhero like me."

Dr Strange snorted but refrained from commenting that "superhero" was oversimplifying what he did.

"Ms Marvel will ensure that no harm comes upon you, and so will I," Strange said softly. He motioned to the unoccupied room again. "Now, there are matters of grave importance concerning you, Mister Potter."

Harry gulped, and for a second, Carol was afraid that he was not going to budge. Fortunately, and much to Carol's pride, Harry steeled himself and both of them entered the unoccupied hospital room. Or, at least, it _was_ a hospital room. Now, it was a luxurious sitting area where shelves upon shelves of books on practically every imaginable subject – from scientific to the mystical – surrounded the sitting area. A large green armchair and a small, circular oak table were placed in front of a cosy fireplace – the mantelpiece full of cosmic and mystical trinkets. Needless to say, Carol was surprised by the change of scenery, but Harry was in absolute awe.

"Welcome to my study." Dr Strange chuckled and noted that Carol recovered fairly quickly, while Harry's mouth was still open in awe. At least, Harry would no longer have to go back to those retched Dursleys again.

As he was an incredibly busy man (understatement of all time), Steven could not keep tabs on the British Wizarding World 24/7. Therefore, when Steven had found out about what had happened to the "Boy-Who-Lived"– as the morons had dubbed their saviour in their sheer originality – Steven was furious at where the boy had ended up. Not only was Harry neglected at Number 4 Privet Drive, the boy was physically, verbally and emotionally abused by his 'family'. Do not even get him STARTED on the soul fragment in Harry's scar! That hideous abomination was going to be an easy fix (he was not Sorceror Supreme for nothing). After that, the blood wards around Number 4 Privet Drive would be relocated to Harry's new, loving home — most likely Carol Danvers' apartment if Harry's attachment to the superheroine being an indication to where the boy wanted to live. Regardless, as Albus Dumbledore was going to find out, Harry was never going back to the Dursleys.

"This is amazing!" Harry couldn't help but state out loud, as he surveyed the whole study. If the Dursleys were here, they would abuse him for making such a harmless compliment.

"Indeed." Dr Strange smiled warmly. After all, those who had even seen/been in his study loved it. "And it is a good thing that you will see more of it when you train with me."

Carol – who was busy gauging Harry's emotions – quirked an eyebrow and narrowed her eyes at Dr Strange, when it clicked: Harry was magical and must be powerful in his magic. On the other hand, Harry's eyes widened with slight fear in them, but before the boy could jump to the wrong conclusion(s), Dr Strange began to explain.

"You are a wizard, Harry. No, that does not sound right." Dr Strange frowned and rubbed his chin. For some weird reason, he felt that it should have been announced differently. Nevertheless, with a shrug of his shoulders, he continued with his explanation.

"Harry, you are more than just a wizard. You are more powerful than you can imagine." He waited to gauge Harry's reaction – mostly fear with some realization. Good. "You are Harry James Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans. To most of the Wizarding World on Earth, you are known as 'The Boy Who Lived': Vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort a.k.a. Tom Riddle Junior. On Halloween of 2011, Tom Riddle was vanquished as a result of your mother's sacrifice. Unfortunately, a piece of his soul latched onto your scar."

Dr Strange touched Harry's scar which caused the latter to squirm and hold onto Carol's hand.

"Instead of leeching your life force and weakening you, it seems as if you leeched off of the soul fragment. This strengthened your already powerful magic to new levels. However, it is still vital for it to be removed, in what I assure you is a painless process."

Harry glanced back at Carol who gave his hand a comforting squeeze. He nodded and mustered his courage.

"Okay."

Dr Strange nodded, and with a slight 'pull', extracted the soul fragment from Harry's forehead. With a snap of his fingers, the Sorcerer Supreme destroyed the piece of Voldemort's soul.

"Now, on to the matter of who will become your new guardian."

Harry bit his lip and glanced back at Carol.

_What if she doesn't want me? Who would want a freak like me?_

Meanwhile, Carol was debating with herself. A part of her wanted to tell Harry that, as a superhero and a colonel, she would be too busy not to mention dangerous for him. On the other hand, a much greater part of her argued that Harry was powerful and could handle himself once properly trained. Most importantly, Harry needed a proper, loving home, and it's not like she could worse than the relatives who abandoned him. Right?

In the end, the decision was as clear as day.

"I will be his new guardian, if you'll have me, that is?" Carol added softly. She could already feel some sort of connection with Harry. She took off her domino mask. "I'm Carol Danvers."

Harry, who was trying hard not to cry in disbelief and joy, instead simply engulfed her in a hug and sobbed onto her shoulder. A shocked and overjoyed Carol patted his back and spoke gentle words of reassurance, as years of pent up emotions flooded out.

As Dr Strange gazed at the loving scene in front of him, he caught glimpses of the future (or at least possible futures). He saw Harry and Carol, hand-in-hand going to the zoo; he saw Harry celebrate his tenth birthday surrounded by various superheroes (and Deadpool for some godforsaken reason) in Carol's apartment. Yet, what made Dr Strange raise his eyebrows in intrigue was when he saw a naked teenage Harry thrusting his cock into his new mother's pussy from behind on Carol's bed, pulling on her hair with one hand while the other held onto her hip, as he thrusted. Both were clearly enjoying it, especially if Carol's orgasms were anything to go by. The glimpse ended as soon as Harry grabbed onto Carol's large breasts which were swinging slightly with each of his thrusts.

"Steven, what's wrong?"

Carol was still holding onto the sobbing Harry — her _son_.She narrowed his eyes at the Sorcerer Supreme in an effort to decipher what he had seen. If it was something bad to do with Harry, as his new guardian (When/If Harry was going to consider her his mother was up to him), she had the right to know.

"Nothing to worry about, Colonel Danvers." Steven gave her an enigmatic smile which barely did anything to alleviate her concerns. "The future is bright."

Dr Strange teleported out of his study towards Albus Dumbledore's office, to 'convince' (tell) the headmaster of Harry's new living conditions, leaving the new mother and son alone. After all, it was going to be quite a few years before leaving them alone with each other would result in anything more than maternal love.


	2. Remembrance

_**SEVEN YEARS LATER** _

A lot had changed in the past seven years. Thanks to the actions of one D-list supervillain, secret identities were mostly a thing of the past. In an effort to turn the public against their heroes, the knowledge of knowing who protected them had mostly increased superhero appreciation. Even mutants were more widely accepted now, especially the ones who dedicated their lives, to protect the innocent and punish the guilty.

For thirteen-year-old Harry Potter-Danvers, his life had really turned around from the hell of seven years ago. Gone was the sickly pale, malnourished little boy; Harry was lean from countless hours of training with various superhero groups – particularly the Avengers. His sickly pale skin tone was now replaced by a healthy pale skin tone. Furthermore, no longer did he have to wear glasses – a combination of magic and science fixing his eyesight. Yet, Harry still had untameable jet-black hair (nothing in the cosmos could fix that), and his eyes were still the same bright green.

Of course, as any regular teenager boy, Harry did wish he was taller. Standing at five-foot-four at thirteen-years-old was embarrassing, if he had to admit to himself in front of his bedroom mirror. Clad only in a red pair of boxer shorts, Harry knew that he should not look a gift horse in the mouth.

"At least you aren't being abused anymore," Harry muttered under his breath and shook his head.

He tore his eyes off of his reflection and surveyed his bedroom while taking note of the every single change since his adoption. Having lived in a cupboard under a staircase for roughly five years, Harry was more than grateful for his own bedroom, despite how 'small' it was compared to the rest of the apartment. The walls had been painted bright red with gold along the edges – Uncle Tony insisted after arranging all the documents regarding Harry's adoption – and had framed photos set throughout the last seven years. He smiled as his eyes trailed over each and every one of them.

A wooden mahogany desk was placed opposite to the twin bed and Star Wars bedsheets. On the desk was the latest Stark laptop in blue, his art supplies, and a framed photo – taken at Central Park on a gloriously sunny day – of Carol hugging Harry from behind with their grinning faces aimed at the camera (his favorite). Directly above the desk were three shelves choke-full of books, from cookbooks to magical theory. At the age of eight, Dr Strange had insisted that Harry be trained in his magic, lest another situation of lost control occurred again and more than a playground had been heavily damaged. His mom had agreed and – after discussing it with him – had withdrawn him from elementary school, to be home-schooled.

Harry's smile grew wider as he thought about his mom.

Although they were initially both nervous as hell about the adoption and if it would work, it became eventually clear that Carol Danvers made an awesome adopted mother. Almost a year after adopting him, 'Ms Marvel' became 'Captain Marvel' with a more family-friendly but still sexy outfit. The new outfit was jumpsuit with a gold star and lines running across her busty chest. Above the gold the jumpsuit was red and navy blue below it. Red gloves and red boots, along with the red sash wrapped around her waist from her Ms Marvel days had replaced the black leotard and thigh-highs.

It was around three and a half years after the adoption when Harry had first called Carol his 'mom'. Living in New York City had "diluted his Britishness" as Johnny Storm had initially joked. Of course, especially as the years passed, this was becoming more and more true. Harry's accent had slowly but surely shifted from a Londoner to that of a New Yorker.

He could easily recall the details of the monumental 'mom' event: his mom, having just come back home after defeating a science experiment gone wrong, was tired and sore. He had tried to stay up all night waiting for her to come through the door and had watched TV to pass the time. Alas, he was already asleep by the time his mom had come home in a fluffy white bathrobe over his Star Wars pyjamas. She had carried him to his bed, stored away his robe and tucked him in. As she left his bedroom, he had mumbled "Goodnight, mom" and drifted off to sleep. In the morning, Harry had asked to pass over the salt at the breakfast table and had called her 'mom' again. Carol – who rarely ever cried – was close to tears of joy, and from that day onwards 'Carol' had become 'mom'.

That was not to say that Harry was replacing his biological parents, James and Lily Potter, but Carol Danvers – a total stranger – had adopted and provided him with such a wonderful and crazy (in a good way) life. He would not trade it for anything. After some 'convincing' from his mentor Dr Strange, Albus Dumbledore had understood and wished Harry the best while also apologizing profusely for not going to Dr Strange in the first place, to give Harry a proper childhood. As the old headmaster was truly regretful, Harry had forgiven him but had declined the invitation to attend Hogwarts two years ago. The reasoning behind his choice being that Dr Strange could effectively teach him to control his vast power than Hogwarts could. With a heavy sigh, Albus understood and agreed but kept the invitation open.

As Dr Strange had balked at the dependence of a wand, Harry had been trained in wandless and eventually non-verbal magic. Under his mentor's tutelage, the vast amount of power that Harry became more controllable (Dr Strange stated that magic could not be completely controlled). Inanimate transfiguration became almost too easy, although animate transfiguration was still nigh impossible for him. Teleportation (not the bastardized method of apparition/dis apparition) was initially difficult but became incredibly easy after a few years of practice – much to his mom's displeasure whenever he startled her by teleporting nearby. That stopped when Harry was almost blasted by Carol's energy beams which obliterated the kitchen area. Thankfully, the kitchen area was easily fixed, but Harry had learned his lesson. He was easily more powerful and more skilled than Hogwarts students (and generally a lot of wanded adults).

Yet, for the past four months, Harry had felt the need to go to the school. At first, he thought of possible compulsion charms placed upon him, but after coming up with none and checking with Dr Strange, Harry realized that the main reason why he wanted to go to Hogwarts may be because of his heritage. Unsure and not wanting to regret his decision, Harry had asked his mom if they could talk about it. This was why was awake at five in the morning – as opposed to his regular time of 06:30 – he headed to the kitchen area.

"She isn't back yet." Harry frowned, as the light of sunrise hit and filled the apartment. He checked the refrigerator which had an orange post-it attached to the door. "Ah!" He took it off and read:

_Hey, kiddo. I'll be back soon. Just had to get some milk and eggs from the nearby store. We can talk then._

_Love you, mom xxx_

Harry smiled slightly, and then he shuddered. He hoped to the gods that his mom did not decide to try and make breakfast again. The only thing that Carol Danvers was good at in the kitchen was making a cup of coffee.

Seeing that he still had a little bit of time before she got back, Harry went back into his bedroom and got dressed. Before heading back out to the kitchen area, he checked his appearance – Captain Marvel t-shirt and baggy black pants – and went over to pour himself a glass of orange juice. As he was doing so, Harry heard the click of the door opening to reveal the tired face of his adopted mother carrying the eggs and milk.

Despite being forty years old, the Kree DNA inside of her meant that Carol still looked more or less than same as she did _fifteen_ years ago. The only difference being a hair which had been cut short, barely reaching below her chin. Thanks to basically everyone knowing her secret identity now, Carol had foregone wearing her superhero outfit and instead opted for civvies – a pair of black, baggy slacks, a grey-green hoodie and white sneakers. Nevertheless, Carol still looked beautiful.

"Hey, kiddo," Carol greeted with a tired smile. She placed the eggs on the kitchen counter and put the milk in the refrigerator, before she turned to face him. "What do you want to talk about?"

Harry finished his glass of orange juice and placed it in sink.

"Are you sure you wanna talk now?" His mom would be hiding her fatigue well... If he was not her son. Carol waved off the hidden message.

"I'm fine, Harry. I have had my coffee, and I have been up for longer before." Both of them sat on opposite sides to each other along the dining table. "Does it have to do with Hogwarts?"

At this question, Harry grimaced in confirmation. Carol sighed – she had to be careful with what she said.

"Look; at the end of the day, the decision is up to you. I know what Hogwarts means to you – it's... a connection to your parents, and I will fully support your decision, no matter what."

Carol gave him a small smile, which Harry returned with interest.

"Thanks, mom."

Silence filled the apartment, as Harry considered the pros and cons of attending Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Carol, who knew her son being deathly quiet meant that he was thinking hard, went to the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of milk and sat back down again. Patience was required in this situation.

After what seemed like an eternity and a half, Harry sighed but was resolved in his decision.

"I want to go."

* * *

"I DON'T WANT TO GO!"

The walking cliché of a robber wailed as he was being dragged away by two police officers. He was struggling in vain against their iron grips and stomped his feet like an overgrown baby.

Carol rolled her eyes at the idiot's behavior. After all, only an idiot would try to rob a bank frequented by several superheroes (and the occasional supervillain) in _broad_ _daylight_. As a result, the 'man' was swiftly apprehended by Carol, who was nearest and conveniently already in costume. Once he had been taken away, she finished making her deposit and flew back towards the apartment. While flying at a fairly idle velocity, Carol could not help but thinking about the fact that Harry, her son in all but blood, was going away.

_Not forever. You can always drop by. Stop being such a worry-wort._

This was true, especially since Dr Strange had made it so that Carol could properly see through magical protection methods. The Sorcerer Supreme had also added a few protective measures onto her in case someone thought themselves 'brave' enough to try anything. He had also done the same thing for Harry.

"Harry!" Carol called out, once she had softly landed on the balcony of their apartment and stepped through the invisible magical barrier, in to the sitting room. "You here, kiddo?"

She frowned thoughtfully. Where could he-?

Carol almost screamed when Harry and Dr Strange teleported a few feet in front of her. Luckily, thanks to years of military training and experience in these sort of things, all she did was glare at them.

"Heh! Sorry, mom." Harry gave her a sheepish grin. Dr Strange, on the other hand, was completely unrepentant as judged by his smirk.

"My apologies, Carol. Training went on for longer than I anticipated," Dr Strange explained yet pride was evident on his face. "Your son is, to put it mildly, one of the best students that I have ever had the privilege of mentoring."

At such praise, Harry blushed and blushed harder when Carol looked even prouder than his mentor.

"That's awesome, kiddo!" She raised an eyebrow at them. "Although I would appreciate a little warning next time when you teleport in."

"It was his fault," Dr Strange accused jokingly, pointing at Harry who mock-glared at him. Carol laughed.

"Ready to go shopping in Diagon Alley for school?" Carol asked, once she had stopped laughing. She then narrowed her eyes – partly in concern – when Harry and Dr Strange exchanged glances with each other.

"Deadpool volunteered to go-" Dr Strange began while clutching the bridge of his nose. Harry pursed his lips and shrugged as if saying "what can you do".

"WHAT!?"

In a puff of red, electric-charged 'smoke', Deadpool teleported into the sitting room with a slightly BLOODY bag of Harry's school supplies. Not to mention the curved dagger imbedded into the mercenary's back.

"¿Dondé estan las drogas?"

Silence filled the apartment.

Whereas Carol was facepalming to the nth degree, and Dr Strange was getting a migraine, Harry was trying hard not to burst out in laughter. Finally, the silence was broken by Carol.

"What. The. Fuck?"

Deadpool - who had taken out the dagger and pocketed it somewhere in hammerspace - turned to Harry and handed over the school supplies.

"Sorry about the blood. Some L'oreal reject with a sissy cane insulted you guys while I was shopping for your stuff, so I drop-kicked him through the window of the wand store! I also _may have_ bankrupted a few business."

Deadpool rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly but then perked up.

"But, hey! Look on the bright side: chimichangas are now a hit in Diagon Alley."

He turned to the readers, while ignoring the bewildered (although somewhat amused in Harry's case and more resigned in the case of Dr Strange) occupants of the apartment.

"Does this mean that I can FINALLY get my own character tag? Pretty please! Everyone loves Deadpool, especially since those two aren't going to actually boon-tang for a number of chapters!"

Mother and son glanced at each other in confusion. What the hell was Deadpool talking about? Meanwhile, Dr Strange covered his surprise at the mercenary's knowledge of what lay in store for Harry and Carol.

As if the author knew that Deadpool's role in this chapter (and hopefully the story) was fulfilled, Deadpool's teleporter activated and sent him away.

"That was... odd," Harry remarked while staring at the spot where Deadpool had stood. Carol nodded in agreement. The 'Merc with the Mouth' had grown on the family, but it was still Deadpool.

"We shall never speak of this again," Dr Strange declared resolutely.

That was the number one rule in any situation involving Deadpool.

* * *

September 1st seemed to arrive too fast for mother and son. Harry had teleported himself and his mom just outside of King's Cross station. Luckily, no-one unaware of the magical world had seen them or paid mind, as they entered the entered the train station – Hogwarts suitcase in Harry's left hand. As the weather was cooler in England, Harry had opted to wear his Spider-Man jacket over a plain green shirt. A pair of brown pants – as Deadpool had advised him worked well in ANY situation – and red converse sneakers finished the look. He was getting a considerable number of appraising and look

Whereas Carol wore a black dragonhide jacket – a 38th birthday present from Harry – over a navy blue blouse that stretched across her ample bosom. A pair of worn-out skinny jeans gave off the impression of being painted on, and sensible three-inch wedges. Minimalistic yet effective makeup enhanced her natural beauty and made Carol attract the attention of almost everyone in the train station – and not just because she was Captain Marvel. Together, Harry and Carol were captivating everyone, as they approached platforms nine and ten (much to their annoyance) and passed through the brick wall to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Hushed whispers followed suit.

"Look, it's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Is that Captain Marvel?

"What is he doing with a muggle — super-powered she may be?"

"Who cares? She is gorgeous!"

"They look so cute together!"

Harry and Carol ignored the hushed whispers and, with their backs straight and heads held high, they strode forwards passed multiple train carriages. As the clock was soon to strike eleven, Carol realized with resigned dread that it was type to say goodbye. Harry had also come to the same realization, judging by the purse of his lips and saddened eyes.

"I guess it's time for me to board the train," Harry said, biting his lip. Eight minutes were left, and a majority of children had already boarded.

"Yeah, kiddo." Carol gave him a weak smile before grinning and playfully punching his shoulder. "But do not think for one second that I won't visit you at Hogwarts."

"I know." Harry grinned back. "I can also call you on my StarkPhone."

He took a black rectangular phone barely a inch in thickness. It was the latest in Stark technology, and as a bonus, was protected against the effects of magic.

"Yeah." Carol sighed, before she suddenly pulled her son in for a hug. "Come here."

Mother and son clutched onto each other in a fierce embrace. Harry willed himself not to cry — he was thirteen years old for Christ's sake! — and just decided to enjoy his mom's hug. However, after a few minutes and because of the height difference, Harry soon found himself turning red in embarrassment, as his head was being crushed against Carol's enormous breasts.

"Uh, mom." His voice was slightly muffled by being crushed against her soft breasts. "You can let go now."

It did not take long for Carol to see that Harry was being suffocated by her rack, much to her mortification. Subsequently, she let him go.

"Sorry, it's just that I will miss you so much," Carol confessed, her face slightly red for a moment. She then cracked a grin. "Now, get out of here and enjoy school, soldier!"

Harry stood upright and saluted like one of her privates.

"Yes, mam!"

With two minutes left before eleven o'clock, Harry boarded the train hastily. Despite boarding relatively late, he managed to easily find a nearly empty compartment — the only occupant being a man sleeping with a brown, tattered coat draped over the top half of his body. Through the window of the compartment, Harry waved goodbye to his mom (who waved back and gave him a wink), as the train left the station and started gaining momentum. It did not take long for them to disappear from each other's sights.

"Want some help with that?"

Harry turned to face twins standing just outside of the carriage. They looked a few years older than him and had ginger hair and freckles. Both stood at five-foot-eight and had reasonably stocky builds, as well as a mischievous glint in their eyes telling of seasoned pranksters.

"Sure."

He put down his Hogwarts suitcase on the compartment floor and silently switched its contents with heavy rocks. Oblivious to the change, Fred and George Weasley glanced each other for a split second, before they went over to the suitcase and pulled.

"Blimey!" Fred huffed whilst pulling with all of his might. George was also red-faced, as he helped his brother. "What do you have in there? Rocks?"

"Well..." Harry smirked slyly, and with a snap of his fingers, he switched the contents of the suitcase with his actual (charmed to be light as a feather) stuff. Unfortunately for the twins, the sudden change in mass caused them to lose balance and forced them onto the backs against the compartment seats.

"I think... that we... have just been pranked, brother-of-mine," Fred panted in disbelief.

"I... believe so, brother-of-mine," George replied in equal disbelief.

Their identical looks of disbelief was rapidly replaced with gleeful grins, as they simultaneously sprang back up onto their feet again and stared at Harry with fire in their eyes — which only glanced at his scar once before focusing on the rest of his face again.

"That was a nice prank," Fred began, checking his fingernails as if he were disinterested, before he smirked at the amused Harry. "But know this-"

"-you have declared a prank war against the Prankster Kings!" George finished with a sparkle of mischief in their eyes. "And trust us, we will not go easy with you."

"Likewise." Harry smirked and folded his arms across his chest. "The game is afoot, gentlemen."

Fred and George exited the train compartment, with the latter keeping his eyes on Harry like a hawk. Shaking his head, Harry placed his suitcase on the overhead shelf near the suitcase belonging to 'R. J. Lupin' and sat down on the opposite seat to the sleeping man. As the countryside passed in a blur of mostly green and blue, Harry could not help but think of his mom, who was probably already back at the apartment.

Additionally, he also could not help but imagine how life would have been if James and Lily Potter had lived. Would they have sent him off with a kiss from his mother and a hug from his father?

He sighed.

No matter how much he did miss his parents, Harry would not trade anything for his mom and the life that she had given him upon his adoption. He was Harry Potter- _Danvers_ , and nothing would ever change that!

The sound of hesitant knocking at the compartment door snapped him out of his thoughts. Harry turned to face somebody similar in looks to the twins, but while the twins were stocky in build and looked slightly older than him, the redhead was lanky and seemed to be the same age.

"Is this place full?" the lanky redhead asked tentatively while clutching onto his Hogwarts suitcase.

"Nah, it's just us two," Harry said, motioning to himself and the sleeping man.

At this information, Ron brightened and sat himself down after putting away his suitcase. His eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of Harry's scar.

"You're Harry Potter!"

He turned scarlet once he realized his lack of tact and manners. Harry simply rolled his eyes.

"Harry Potter-Danvers. And you are...?"

"Ron! Uh, Ron Weasley," Ron introduced nervously and cleared his throat. "Haven't seen you on the train before? Heard that the Sorcerer Supreme's been teaching you."

Harry nodded in confirmation, which caused Ron's mouth to almost drop in awe.

"You must be like uber-powerful or something!"

"Were those your brothers back there?" Harry desperately changed the subject. Sure, he was more powerful than a lot of people in his age range, but he was no where near God-tier levels of power. "Fred and George Weasley?"

"Yeah, 'Weasley' isn't common." A flash of concern appeared on Ron's face. "They didn't prank you, did they?"

Harry's laughter seemed to relax the redhead boy's concerns.

"Nah, I pranked them, and I _might_ have initiated a prank war." Ron gulped at the look of absolute glee on Harry's face. "And let's just say that they won't know what hit them."

Ron shook his head in a mixture disbelief and awe.

"Absolutely barmy."

A comfortable silence filled the compartment – with Ron taking out a copy of 'Hogwarts, A History' and Harry gazing out of the window. Unfortunately, the arrival of a certain blond pounce ruined the comfortable atmosphere.

"So, I heard that Harry Potter was on the Hogwarts Express," Draco Malfoy said with a smug smile. He then gave a glaring Ron a look of utter disdain. "Why he decides to hang around blood-traitors is beyond my intelligence?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had heard about Draco Malfoy: an arrogant, bratty child who relied on the Malfoy fortune and political power, without any power of his own.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron growled, to which Malfoy smirked.

"Tsk tsk, Weasley. What would your whore of a mother say if she heard you say bad words to a superior family? Is she still popping out kids?" Malfoy sneered. "Are you still killing mudbloods with your mouth?"

Ron's glared ferociously at the blond ponce and clenched his fists. The redhead was just seconds away from pummeling Malfoy into dust.

"Malfoy." Harry's voice was cold with tranquil fury, as Malfoy turned to face him with a smug smirk. "Goodbye."

It all happened so rapidly. With a slight rotational gesture of his wrist, Harry gave Malfoy a supreme wedgie and, before the ponce could even howl out in agony, used magic to throw him out of the compartment and lock the door.

"Asshole."

"Bloody hell! That was wicked!" Ron exclaimed in amazement. "You _have_ to teach me how to do that."

"It all depends on how powerful you are," Harry admitted not unkindly but then added once seeing Ron's dejected face. "But that doesn't mean that you won't be able to learn some other tricks, if it turns out that you aren't powerful enough."

The possibility of learning a few cool tricks against Malfoy seemed to cheer Ron up, yet Harry could tell that something was still bothering his new friend.

"Don't listen to what that fucker said. He is trying to piss you off."

"But it's true – the last part, that is." Ron looked so broken, and his eyes were becoming wet. Harry stared and saw regret. "During my first year, a girl called Hermione Granger – brilliant, she was – showed me how to do the levitation charm properly."

Ron gulped in an effort to try and keep in the tears.

"I was a real fucking prat." His voice was soft and vulnerable. "I told the others that it was no wonder she didn't have any friends. I even sniggered a bit when she went off to the girls' toilets crying."

Harry handed him a tissue, to which Ron nodded gratefully while wiping his eyes.

"Then, during the Halloween feast, a troll had somehow got into the school." Harry winced. Trolls were dangerous to those who were ignorant of them. "Turns out, the troll had gone into the girls' bathroom and..."

"Easy there, pal," Harry comforted, gently patting his friend – who was sobbing – on the shoulder. "It was not your fault."

"But-"

"But nothing!" Harry objected sharply with narrowed eyes. It was the exact tone his mom had used whenever he had said that the Dursleys were not wrong in their treatment of him. "How could you have known that a goddamn troll would get in the school?"

"Still, I should have been nicer to her. She was always said that she didn't have any friends in the muggle world," Ron argued, wiping his damp eyes.

"You can't change the past, Ron," Harry said softly and added sympathetically. "No matter how much you really want to change it."

Ron did not seem entirely convinced, but the talk did make the redhead feel better.

"Harry is right, Ron."

Harry blinked at the sudden appearance of the small blonde girl with large, curious eyes and pale skin. She was sat adjacent to Ron, who seemed unfazed by the sudden appearance.

"Hi, Luna," Ron greeted half-glumly and sighed. "I know, but I can't help but feel that I should have done things better."

"And you will, Ron. In fact, you already have changed for the better," Luna reassured in a dreamy voice. Combined with her short stature (four-ten) and dancer-like build, Harry was reminded of the pictures of his mom from when she was a little girl.

"I'm a second year Ravenclaw," Luna informed. "What house do you think you'll be in, Harry?"

"Uh, I don't know. Gryffindor, I suppose?" Harry shrugged. He was not particularly fussed.

"I hope so, too," Ron said happily. "Then we can be dorm mates."

Harry grinned at the thought, when his StarkPhone began to vibrate in his pocket.

"Hello?" He said after taking it out. Once he realized who it was, Harry beamed. "Hi, mom! Yeah, I'm still on the train. I actually already made a few friends. Say hi, guys."

He pointed the screen towards Ron and Luna – the former was confused, while the latter was more intrigued – which then showed a live feed of Carol's face and neck.

"But electronics don't work around magic. It says so in Hogwarts, A History," Ron explained bemused. Harry and Carol, on the other hand, merely snorted.

"Tell that to Tony Stark," they spoke in unison.

"Hi, Captain Marvel. I am huge fan of your exploits," Luna stated with a serene smile.

"Please, call me Carol. Any friends of Harry has that privilege which means that if you hurt him..."

"Mom!" Harry was somewhat mortified (and somewhat grateful) for his mom's protectiveness. Both Luna and Ron nodded seriously – the latter a bit more frantically in fear, having also heard of Captain Marvel's exploits.

"Just looking out for you, kiddo." Carol winked, as soon as Harry had pointed the screen to himself. "Be safe and enjoy school. Love you, Harry."

"Love you too. Bye."

He put the StarkPhone into one of the pockets in his pants.

"That was a wicked... phone," Ron said, taking a minute to find the correct word for the device. "What else can it do?"

"What else?" Harry mock-gasped. "Well, it can project movies like Star Wars onto any surface."

Both Ron and Luna sent confused looks at him. This was, in Harry's book, unacceptable.

"Well, my young padawans. It is time that you are educated in the awesomeness of Star Wars."

He took out his StarkPhone again and selected 'A New Hope' from his movies collection. Then, he projected the movie onto the compartment wall above the sleeping man, but not before silently casting a privacy 'bubble' around the carriage. The opening credits began, and Harry enjoyed the reactions of his new friends. Hogwarts had become much more enjoyable.

* * *

Meanwhile, a certain Merc with the Mouth was tiptoeing stealthily towards the train compartment where Malfoy and his cronies were located.

"My father was attacked in Diagon Alley by some deranged muggle in a red suit-"

Deadpool shushed the readers with a finger to his lips.

"Shhhh! I'm hunting a wabbit."

Deadpool pulled out a 'D.P.' branding iron from hammerspace, before he unlocked the door to the compartment and threw a smoke bomb inside.

"What in the-!?"

Seizing the moment, Deadpool charged into the compartment, flipped Malfoy onto his stomach and pulled down the ponce's pants. The mercenary then readied the branding iron.

"Now everybody will know what you love in the bedroom – and I am not talking about me."

Deadpool winked to the readers and pressed the branding iron onto Malfoy's right buttock. Everyone (besides Harry and Co. who were enjoying 'A New Hope') heard the girlish shriek of Draco Malfoy reverberate throughout the train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have enjoyed the story so far. Again, I will try to update regularly.


	3. Dog days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those whom have loved the fanfic! It means a lot to me. The plan is to have a total of twelve/thirteen chapters, so it won't be "wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am" in the case of Harry and Carol (post your suggestions for other possible pairings – incest or not). Again, I will try to update regularly.

_**Tuesday 31st October 2023** _

_**SIRIUS BLACK: FREEDOM AT LAST by Rita Skeeter** _

**Sirius Black (33 years old; heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black) was imprisoned twelve years to this day, for the murders of James and Lily Potter. However, just two days ago, new information revealed that Mr Black – originally thought to be secret keeper (see pg. 12 for more information on the Fidelius charm) – had switched the role of secret keeper with Peter Pettigrew.**

**Furthermore, it had been revealed that Mr Black did not receive a trial and was immediately (falsely) imprisoned in Azkaban prison. On 29th October, Dr Strange (see pg. 20 for more details on the Sorcerer Supreme) vouched for Mr Black, to receive a trial. Backing Mr Black were two superheroes – Jennifer Walters a.k.a She-hulk and Matthew Murdock a.k.a. Daredevil – both of whom are skilled lawyers in the muggle world (see pg. 25 for the exploits of both superheroes). Their skill in court was illustrated when Sirius Black was declared an innocent man after insurmountable evidence in favor for the man's innocence (see pg. 22 for more details on the trial).**

**As a result of the trial, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge has issued a public apology to Mr Black – who will most likely become Lord Black as the last living heir of the house. When asked if he would take guardianship of his godson, Harry Potter-Danvers, Mr Black had said that Carol Danvers (see pg. 23 for her exploits) has done an "excellent job in raising his godson" and will not take guardianship. However, Mr Black has also stated that – after attending healing sessions – he will still "hope to have an active part in Harry's life". Here at the Daily Prophet...**

Sirius placed the newspaper on the coffee table in front of him and breathed a sigh of relief. It was early in the afternoon (13:31, to be exact) and two days since he had been released as a free man. Yet, as Sirius sipped his cup of tea and reveled in its warmth, he still felt the need to pinch himself awake. The softness of his new clothes — a simple white shirt and black trousers — did not help.

Two weeks ago, Sirius would never have expected the Sorcerer Supreme to have cared (it was the goddamn Sorcerer Supreme!) about the marauder's innocence. For almost twelve years, Sirius was imprisoned in the hell-hole that was Azkaban prison. Every (remotely) happy memory/thought was ripped away from him by the dementors — gripping into his being and twisting everything till all he was left with was pain.

Sirius shuddered. Yep, a mind healer was definitely the right call.

Some of the physical damage had already been repaired by magic. No longer did he strongly resemble a dead man walking (and that was putting it lightly!), Sirius' gaunt, wavy skin had regained some of its original color, and his long, matted hair had been cleaned and cut just slightly above his shoulders. Sure, Sirius knew that he was nowhere near his physical prime, but considering that he had spent close to twelve years in Azkaban... at least, he was still better than his 'dear' cousin, Bella.

On the other hand, whenever Sirius gazed into the mirror of his temporary apartment in muggle London, he saw the eyes of a dead man gazing back. Being a dog animagus had helped immensely in, well, not losing his mind. Even so, the memories still replayed over and over again — failing his friends and proper family; failing _Harry_. After being released and declared a free man, Sirius had asked Dr Strange about what had happened to his godson. Sirius had heard that Harry had _not_ attended Hogwarts for his first and second years, and thus he was almost going to breakout of Azkaban when the Sorcerer Supreme had shown up.

Thankfully, Sirius had learned from Strange that Harry had instead opted to be mentored by the Sorcerer Supreme and thus did not initially attend Hogwarts. Unfortunately, what he had learned next would have almost put him right back in Azkaban, if not for the Dr Strange's 'firm words'. Strange had told him about the abuse Harry had suffered until the age of six, when Carol Danvers – Ms Marvel, at the time – had adopted his godson after being abandoned by the Dursleys (What were you fucking smoking, Albus!). For the past seven years, Carol had provided Harry with a loving and never boring life, and Sirius was forever grateful if not also kicking himself for going after Pettigrew.

With no idea what to do with his life, Sirius had began planning to somewhere in Eastern Europe, when Strange had informed him that Carol was more than willing to allow him to be a part of Harry's life. She had invited him to move into the Potter-Danvers apartment after completing his healer sessions. Sirius — not to look a gift horse in the mouth – accepted without hesitation.

"It was not your fault, Sirius."

Sirius almost sloshed his tea across the coffee table and sharply turned around to face the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Did you really have to do that?"

Dr Strange responded by simply giving him a look.

"Of course you do." Sirius gulped down the last of his tea before getting up from his seat. "Is everything alright?" He turned to face the amused man. "Is Harry alright?"

"Harry is fine. In fact, I say that he has settled wonderfully at Hogwarts," Dr Strange reassured gently. "The reason why I am here is because I wanted to see how _you_ were doing."

Sirius considered partially lying to the man, but the thought was immediately discarded when he realized that he really was not okay. His hands still sometimes shook, and the cold aura of the dementors still lingered on the periphery of his being.

"Not so bad anymore, especially knowing that Harry is safe." He considered his words carefully. "It just feels so... unreal, sometimes. Like I could wake up back in my cell."

Dr Strange nodded somberly in understanding. Occasionally, it felt as if he would sometimes wake up with bloody, broken hands and everything else being a dream.

"Things will get better, Sirius." Dr Strange's voice was soft and comforting. "And you will play a role in Harry's life, especially when he is going to need you more than ever."

At this remark, Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in a mixture of confusion and concern for his godson. It was reasonably well known that Dr Strange had a sense of precognition which had an alarmingly high rate of accuracy.

"Nothing too drastic... I hope," Dr Strange said. This only served to increase Sirius' worry. "It would be better to show you, but first..."

The Sorcerer Supreme motioned to the mirror hanging on the wall opposite to Sirius. The marauder scrutinized his appearance and scratched his hairy jaw. He did need to clean up properly.

"I will return within two hours."

In less than a blink of an eye, Sirius found himself alone in the apartment and headed towards the bathroom.

* * *

**Manhattan, New York City**

**One hour later**

Carol was thrown into and through the building by one of dark humanoid blob's 'tentacles'. She landed on the sidewalk on the other side and hastily got back up, only to feel its tentacle wrap around her neck and begin choking her from behind. What started off as a good day had descended into pretty shirty.

At the end of last month, Carol had received a letter from her son. The contents of the letter filled Carol with relief and happiness, as Harry wrote about making new friends — not including Ron and Luna — and the castle itself. He had also wrote about how the classes were ridiculously easy, and how Snape (the potions master) was a hardass. History was also "boring as hell", mostly because the teacher was a droning ghost.

Just as thoughts of Harry not missing home and never wanting to come back (no matter the irrationality of these thoughts) invaded her mind, Carol had received a selfie of Harry, Luna and Ron taken by Harry with "Miss you, mom' written at the bottom. This helped significantly in ridding of Carol's worries and brightened her day. She was happy that her son was happy... at least, until whatever the fuck Mister Sinister had created attached her during patrol. This brought her to being choked by the humanoid blob monster.

"Fuck off!" Carol choked out and used her hands to fire energy beams at the monster.

The monster recoiled instantly from the attack, freeing Carol from its grip. It then tried to escape, only for Carol to appear in front of its path.

"Oh no, you don't!"

She fired her energy beams at the monster which seemed to screech in agony, as Carol increased the power of her beams. After a minute or two, the monster was reduced to a smoking puddle of black goo. The sound of slow clapping could be heard from her left.

"Well done, Captain. It seems as if my experience was no match for your power," Mister Sinister sneered from on top of a small building.

The experimenter was deathly pale with a red, diamond-shaped jewel in the centre of his forehead. He stood at tall and arrogant at six-foot-five with a heavily toned body, and his black hair was slicked backwards. Combined with his dark and menacing outfit, Nathaniel Essex looked as if he had stepped out of a classic horror movie.

"You gonna come quietly, Sinister?" Carol was prepared for any other experiments that the bastard had up his sleeve. She punched her fist into her other palm threateningly.

At the remote possibility of such an outcome, Mister Sinister laughed haughtily at her.

"You superheroes and your expectations." The supervillain sobered instantly. "I will not surrender when I am close to my goal."

"Which is?" Carol prompted, as supervillains tended to reveal their master plans when in front of a superhero. However, Mister Sinister merely laughed haughtily once again.

"Do you honestly expect me to tell you what I have planned? Oh, you wound me, Captain Marvel! Our plans are far beyond your understanding!"

" _Our_?" Carol smirked internally at the slip, while Mister Sinister cursed at his own carelessness.

"It does not matter," Mister Sinister declared with an evil grin. "You cannot stop the chaos that will be inflicted on your family."

At the mention of 'family', Carol felt a surge of anger and charged at the experimenter, only to pass through what turned out to be a highly realistic hologram.

She cursed internally. The bastard would not taunt her if he had a chance of being pummelled to the ground. Since Mister Sinister was technically the responsibility of the X-Men, Carol hoped that they would find the bastard's hideout and the bastard himself.

She floated up into the sky before heading in the direction of Hogwarts at hypersonic speeds. Her son could be in danger.

* * *

Harry was having the time of his life in the air. The Quidditch pitch was huge and flying around it was exhilarating. Although, unlike the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he was not flying on a broom – not that it seemed to matter with Oliver Wood, who was practically vibrating with glee at Harry's flying skills. The rest of the Gryffindor team also seemed to be captivated, as Harry turned sharply and then spun to avoid the blusters sent by the Weasley twins. Wood had insisted that Harry be put through the ringer, even if the latter had no desire to play for his house.

Yes, Harry could admit that Quidditch was fun (much to Ron's delight), but the sport just did not seem to be something he could see himself doing as a career or a hobby (Ron had playfully bemoaned the loss of a potential Quidditch fan). Nevertheless, the two shared a common ground for their love of flying — with or without a broom.

Luna was mostly indifferent to the sport — Harry had learned that she was far more interested in designing and wear mascot costumes for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. He had also learned that Luna ate a fuckton of food without breaking a sweat and/or throwing it back up. Harry fondly remembered a pie eating contest between Ron and Luna which ended with the former swearing off pie forever.

Classes were frustratingly easy, especially the practical side of things. In the end, Harry stuck mostly to helping others in class — Potions being the only subject where that was a no-go.

Harry pursed his lips.

Snape was clearly unfit to teach. The man-child was stuck in the past and continuously went out of his way to humiliate/bully anyone outside of Slytherin. The greasy bastard seemed to particularly hate _his_ guts. Whenever someone was punished for some stupid reason, Harry was also punished for _no_ reason whatsoever. To think, he could have been sorted into Slytherin...

_Flashback_

_He stared up at the ceiling of the great hall and couldn't help but be impressed. The whole castle itself was truly a sight to behold. While Harry was marvelling over the architecture of the castle, the first years were practically shivering with anxiety and borderline fear, as they waited to be called up for sorting._

_One by one, the students were sorted into one of the four houses – the older years clapping politely (with the occasional cheer). At last, it was Harry's turn._

_"Hmm. Difficult. Incredibly difficult."_

_The Sorting Hat was lightly skimming through his thoughts and memories, although – much to the hat's intrigue – Harry had blocked access to some of his more precious memories._

_"Well... you are quite clever! Not to mention such loyal – especially to your 'mom'. You would destroy the nine realms for her, and she for you. Slytherin would have been the ideal house, if not the fact that your bravery will always triumph over your ambitions. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"_

_Deafening cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, as Harry ran over to take the seat adjacent to Ron. At least he wasn't in the same house as Malfoy especially with the venomous glare he was receiving from the Potions master._

_Harry really didn't know what Snape's problem was. Every potions lesson consisted with the man-child insulting every student besides the Slytherins. Dr Strange had told him snippets of the Potions master's past – an abusive childhood also filled with bullying leading to becoming a Death Eater and eventually a spy for the light. The similarities between him and Snape had made the former sympathize with the Potions master. Without any positive influences in his life, Harry believed that he could have ended up like Snape._

_But just because Harry could sympathize with Snape did not mean that the bastard's behavior was anywhere near justified. Yes, Snape was abused at home and bullied at school (by Harry's father and godfather, no less) but at least the bastard's bullies had mostly matured after leaving school. At first, Harry had hated the Potions master with a passion, but after learning about the man's past and his choices, that hatred had turned to pity._

_It was clear by Snape's furious face after reading the article of Sirius' release from Azkaban that the former Death Eater still carried his grudge. Whatever shreds of civility that Snape had for Professor Lupin (who Harry had learned was one of his father's friends) had evaporated and replaced with open hostility._

_On the subject of the new DADA professor, Harry found the man to be a great teacher, if the comments of the other students were anything to go by (why in the cosmos would Dumbledore hire Gilderoy Lockhart!?). The man (and werewolf – the man 'smelled' of lycanthropy and the scars looked awfully like that of a werewolf) was well-spoken, knowledgeable, and authoritative._

_Yet, Professor Lupin was also fun with a dry wit. However, after the announcement of Sirius' innocence and release from Azkaban, the DADA professor had seemed subdued – not that it affected his teaching, unlike with Snape. Every attempt to talk to the man had been rebuffed kindly, so Harry let him have time to properly deal with what was obviously earth-shattering for the professor. It would have been earth-shattering for Harry, too… if not for his mom and others. From what Dr Strange had told him, Professor Lupin had been alone for the past twelve years._

"Oi, Harry! Get your head out of your arse!"

Harry snapped out of his thoughts and realized that the Gryffindor Quidditch team was staring at him. He looked over towards Ron – the one who had yelled at him – who was sitting by the stands and was busy scribbling Quidditch tactics onto a piece of parchment. Ron had recently confided in him that he wanted to be a Quidditch player after graduation and then a Quidditch manager after retirement. Judging by what he could make out on the piece of parchment; Harry could see that Ron really knew his stuff.

"Sorry, guys. Spaced out for a little bit," Harry explained and forced a smile. "What's the score so far?"

However, before anybody could give him an answer, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Years of being mentored by the Sorcerer Supreme had sharpened Harry's senses (magical and not), and every sense in his body was telling him to look up to the sky.

"What is that?" Ron asked, pointing to the sky with his finger at a fast-approaching dot high up behind Harry.

Harry reached out with his magical senses as far as he could manage. The 'dot' felt like his mom but – just to properly make sure it wasn't a skrull or something – Harry checked thoroughly and smiled when it really was Carol Danvers.

"It's cool, guys," he reassured, as the 'dot' started to rapidly take the shape of his mom. "It's just my mom."

Carol stopped a few feet in front of Harry before taking him into a ferocious hug. Harry could immediately tell that something was wrong.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Has anything happened!?"

The questions came flying out of her mouth faster than bullets from a minigun, and Harry grew concerned.

"Mom, I'm fine. Just flying with the Quidditch team." He motioned to the team who were still recovering from shock at Captain Marvel appearing before them. Harry frowned and asked gently. "Is everything okay?"

Carol breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, the feeling of dread in her stomach did not go away. She scanned the Quidditch pitch for anything suspicious. It didn't help.

"Nothing suspicious happened?" Harry shook his head. He broke free of his mom's somewhat suffocating grip. "Did something happen?"

If it had just been the two of them, Carol would have told Harry about what had happened with Mister Sinister. Instead, she forced a small smile and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nothing too important." Harry's mind registered their code for "I'll explain later". She playfully punched his shoulder. "How is school, kiddo?"

"Not too bad," he replied with a genuine smile while internally being wary of his surroundings. "Been missing me, huh?"

Carol pretended to ponder on her answer. She grinned mischievously.

"Nah! I've been having the time of my life."

"How could you, mother!?" Harry gasped dramatically with a hand to his mouth – partly for additional effect and partly to stop himself from laughing. "Do you not love me?"

"I did!" Carol placed the back of her hand against her forehead. "But my love for the coffee machine is greater than my love for you!"

Harry couldn't take it anymore and broke down into laughter. Carol couldn't either and started laughing, too. The Gryffindor Quidditch team and everybody who was watching the team practice were all staring at the mother and son were trying to comprehend what they just witnessed.

"The seeds are blossoming."

Ron, who had been busy gaping at the Harry and Carol's 'performance', was almost startled by Luna's sudden appearance to his right. She was holding a dish with a large slice of raspberry pie on it. He suppressed the urge to throw up.

"Uh, what?"

Luna's eyes stayed focused on the sight of Harry telling Carol about Hogwarts even while quickly devouring the pie (Ron's almost threw up).

"Nothing, Ron. I was simply enjoying the match."

Ron furrowed his eyebrows in confusion only to then shrug his shoulders. Sometimes, Luna was weird and started to talk about something that was borderline nonsense – it was easier to just shrug his shoulders.

"I thought you didn't want to come out today," Ron said, to which Luna gave him an enigmatic smile. "Something about wanting to sleep in."

Her enigmatic smile never wavered, as she gazed at Harry and Carol and tilted her head like an owl.

"I did say that. But something tells me that I should be out _here_ now. This is a prestigious moment, Ron. When mother and son start to become something more…"

Her voice was soft and too quiet to hear properly. Usually, Ron would have gone back to doing whatever he was doing before Luna had started talking about something that didn't make sense. Be that as it may, in all the time that the two of them had been friends, he had never heard Luna talk like this before. He followed her gaze towards the mother and son.

Both seemed calm and relaxed on the surface. Yet, due to years of living with family members – particularly his dad, Bill, Charlie, and the twins – Ron could tell that Harry and his mum were simply trying to _appear_ like there wasn't anything wrong. Harry's shoulders were tense and his fists were clenched tight, as if he were expecting a confrontation.

Ron could also see that Captain Marvel was constantly checking her surroundings, as if something could pop out from beneath the Quidditch pitch stands and attack them. He really hoped that nothing would attack them from below. Unfortunately, it would instead attack from above.

"LOOK OUT!"

The pleasant conversation between Carol and her son was cut short, when she pushed him out of the way of something speeding towards them from above. It had been so fast that Carol had only detected it in her periphery at the last second.

"MOM!"

Luckily, through years of practice, Harry had erected a green energy shield in front of him as he was pushed aside. The shield had been erected in time and had protected him from rocks flung at him by Carol's impact with the ground. Said impact was powerful enough to send a shockwave of rock dust throughout the _empty_ pitch.

Before Carol could even get the chance to groan, a fist collided with her face and punched her into the ground again. It was about to be followed with another fist, only for Carol to catch it and then use both her legs to kick away the attacker into base of one of the Quidditch stands – making a sizable hole of impact.

"You okay, Harry!?"

"Yeah!" Harry shouted back and landed back on the ground again. If he was going to fight, it would be better if his feet were on the ground. "You?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Get outta here! That is an order!" Carol added the last part when she saw Harry about to protest.

"I'm not leaving you," Harry stated firmly, with a mutual glare between them.

"Fine!" Carol said through gritted teeth.

Internally, a part of her was proud that he was standing his ground and willing to fight. On the other hand, Harry was her son and if anything happened…

An energy beam shot at Harry from within the impact hole. Luckily, Harry's instincts were superb and dodged it before using his magic to throw the energy beam back to its source. Once it had made contact with its source, the stands exploded and the erupted flames rapidly burned them down. Unfortunately, Harry could tell that the attacker was unharmed, as the shape of its body could be seen through the flames and walking out of them. Both he and his mom gasped.

The attacker was HIS MOM! Harry's neck almost snapped at the speed he turned it to face his mom and then back to the attacker. Or, as Harry analyzed the doppelganger with his magic, a clone of his mom. The attacker was identical to Carol Danvers back in her days as Ms Marvel (complete with the outfit), except for the mannerisms and body language that was like that of a dangerous, feral animal.

Furthermore, as Harry noted with bemusement, instead of wearing a pair of flat, thigh-high boots, the clone's boots included five-inch stiletto heels. Carol snorted derisively at them while in a fighting stance.

"Those are so impractical." _But they do look good._

The clone growled as if insulted by the comment and shot straight towards Carol, only to be significantly slowed down a few feet away from her, as if she was in slow-motion. Harry's hands and eyes glowed violet with powerful magic.

"Thanks, kiddo," Carol said, before she started punching the clone – each hit stronger than the last.

Suddenly, the time manipulation magic slowing down the clone ceased and the clone smirked when she caught Carol's fist. Light bruises were showing across the clone's face.

"My turn," the clone snarled smugly and hit Carol into and through the Quidditch stands. 'Ms Marvel' turned to face the battle-ready Harry, who was desperately hoping that his mom wasn't too hurt, and pouted. "You do not need to be afraid of your mother, boy."

Harry growled. The word 'boy' came off as insulting and reminded him of his days living at the Dursleys.

"Who is afraid?"

With a clench of his right hand and a fast clock-wise hand motion with his left a inch or two above it, the ground beneath Ms Marvel turned into a fist of earth and clutched onto her.

"You will have to do better than that, boy!" she taunted and broke free of the fist.

This sent rocks flying towards Harry, whose eyes briefly glowed yellow as the rocks were transfigured into red, flaming phoenixes slightly larger than the average parrot and directed at the clone.

"ATTACK!" Harry commanded the phoenixes in a deep, other-worldly voice.

The phoenixes combined into one massive phoenix which filled almost a third of the Quidditch pitch as it screeched at the clone and attacked.

"ARRRGGGGGHHHHHH!" Ms Marvel screamed agonizingly as the flames consumed her, or at least _tried_ to consume her.

In spite of the mighty attack, the flames hadn't even severely injuring the clone. They soon petered out to reveal the pissed-off clone whose non-uniformed parts of her body had quite a number of third-degree burns.

"That actually hurt me!" Ms Marvel shouted furiously. The domino mask had been burned away which further highlighted the feral nature of the clone expressed through its eyes. She then used both hands to fire a focused energy blast at him.

Luckily, Harry teleported out of its way and consequently obliterated the remaining Quidditch stands behind him when the blast had hit it. Before the clone could fire another shot, he teleported behind her and raised his hands upwards. Rings of green magical energy bound themselves around Ms Marvel's feet and shins. This was then followed by Harry makes a diagonal downwards slashing motion which formed a circle of crimson energy rotating around the struggling clone. A snap of his fingers made the circle close in on itself in an instant and caused Ms Marvel to shriek in agony.

" _That_ is for my mom!"

With Harry's guard down and a sudden pulse of cosmic energy, Ms Marvel dispersed the magic and sent him flying and crashing to the ground unconscious. She smirked victoriously and strode towards him, high heels clicking with each step and sway of her hips.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!"

Before Ms Marvel could even open her mouth, an uppercut from Carol sent the clone flying into the sky. Several rapid-fire punches to the face and chest launched the clone higher and higher into the sky, until Carol smacked the clone down into the Quidditch pitch with both fists. As there was no such thing as overkill when family was threatened, Carol zoomed down from the sky and stomped Ms Marvel further into the ground. The impact destroyed what remained undamaged areas of the pitch, although the still unconscious Harry was fortunately unharmed.

"Ugh…"

Ms Marvel was struggling to get back onto her feet again. As soon as she did, Carol had swung a fist at the clone's right hip and fractured it with a resounding crack followed by the clone's scream. The clone's attempt to hit Carol was met with a block and dislocation of the former's shoulder. An elbow to the face broke Ms Marvel's nose, followed by a powerful kick to the clone's right knee, and then a smack to the face knocked the clone to the ground.

"Touch my son again and you won't be so lucky!"

The clone practically snarled at Carol and was about to lunge at her when one of her high heels snapped off. As a result, Ms Marvel lost her balance, and Carol took the opportunity to knock the clone unconscious.

"This is why I don't wear heels to a fight."

Carol ran over to her son and used her thumb to tenderly stroke his forehead. Harry gradually regained consciousness before suddenly sitting upright.

"What happened!? Am I dead?"

Harry almost lost consciousness again and clutched the side of his head. His eyes then took notice of the unconscious Ms Marvel.

"Did you do that?"

"Clearly," Carol deadpanned in an attempt to humor him, only to be on the receiving end of a hug.

"I don't care if you didn't," Harry said and clutched onto Carol as if she would disappear into nothingness. "I thought I had lost you today – like I lost them."

Carol gingerly returned the hug and cursed. Today was October thirty-first – the day that Harry's parents had sacrificed themselves for their son. Of course, Harry was always more emotional on Halloween, if the tears running down his far didn't give this away.

"You won't ever lose me, Harry." She tilted his head up so that their eyes met. "You hear me?"

Harry sniffled and nodded shakily. Ever since he had found out that the significance of Halloween to his life, Harry would always go to his room back at the apartment and close himself off from the Universe. Several 'what if' scenarios would occupy his mind – both of the good and horrible kind.

He would imagine his life with his parents (maybe even a sibling or two) if they had lived, but scenarios of Carol dying while out as Ms Marvel/Captain Marvel would also fill his head. Harry could vividly remember the Halloween of three years ago. His mom hadn't returned home for two days and by the time that she had returned, he was found crying in a corner of the bathroom.

Thankfully, it had gotten better with time, but today's fight with the clone had triggered something within him. What if his mom had actually died and not been knocked unconscious? He couldn't lose her, too!

"Promise me." Harry hated how soft and vulnerable his voice was at the moment but it had to be said.

"I promise," Carol smiled gently and blinked when she saw the bewildered looks of Gryffindor team and the few spectators (sans Luna) of today's Quidditch practice surrounding them.

"Bloody hell! Are you guys alright?" Ron asked while running up to them. His eyes then took notice of the destroyed Quidditch pitch and widened. "How in Merlin did we get back in here!?"

Carol almost jumped when Luna appeared behind her with a serene yet also concerned face. Beside the strange girl was a large, black dog that bounded over to Harry.

"Will you need any medical assistance?" Luna asked, while Harry petted the dog's head with a knowing smile.

"How did we get back in here?" Fred asked incredulously. "I swear that we were-"

"Never mind that!" Oliver scolded and waved his arms like a madman at the destroyed Quidditch pitch. "Look at the Quidditch pitch!"

"Thanks for showing how much you care about us, captain," George snorted sarcastically, to which Oliver waved him off.

"Everyone seems fine, so I _can_ worry about the state of the Quidditch pitch."

Everybody stared at Oliver and questionable logic (and sanity) but before anybody could say anything, the teachers and Headmaster arrived at the scene.

"Has anyone been hurt?" Albus questioned seriously, as he strode towards the students with power exuding each and every step. Right now, Albus Dumbledore was not one to be trifled with.

"No, Headmaster Dumbledore," Luna answered with a serene smile which frankly unnerved quite a few of the teachers and most of the students. "Although, you might what to check some of the students for whiplash."

At this suggestion, Albus blinked but then smiled in what seemed to be some sort of understanding.

"Understood, Miss Lovegood. Now, if everyone would follow me to the hospital wing-"

Ms Marvel had regained consciousness and was about to attack the nearest student to her (Colin Creevey) when – before any of the teachers could even react – the high heel that had snapped off of her boot was now lodged deep into the clone's left eye. The clone subsequently stumbled a few steps backwards and then fell to the ground dead.

"Captain Marvel is right. High heels are impractical," Luna said serenely, although she seemed slightly subdued.

Everybody stared at her in disbelief. At least, until the black dog next to Harry turned into Sirius Black. This caused the students to then lose their collective shit.

"SILENCE!" Albus ordered sternly, to which the students did so immediately. "Hello, Sirius."

Sirius gave the headmaster a curt nod, as he and Carol helped Harry back up onto his feet again. Internally, the marauder was wondering what the fuck was going on. Strange had teleported him (disillusioned and in his animagus form) to one of the Quidditch pitch stands in order to see Harry. In spite of not using a broom, Sirius could only stare in amazement at his godson's natural ability to fly. Harry looked so much like James in the air with the same relaxed aura.

What started off as a heartwarming – and somewhat heartbreaking (a part of him felt that James and Lily instead of Carol) – exchange between mother and son had devolved into an epic battle. His godson was going to be killed! The next thing that Sirius knew, he was suddenly outside of the Quidditch pitch with everybody else.

Memories of seeing James and Lily's bodies had flooded his mind, followed by James and Lily glaring at him for failing to protect their son once again. Since he had no wand on him, Sirius had felt absolutely useless. It was only a moment later that Sirius (and everybody else) found themselves back in the now destroyed Quidditch pitch. His heart had started beating again when he saw that Harry was relatively fine ("relatively" being the key word).

"We are taking Harry to the hospital wing," Sirius stated in a no-nonsense tone in an attempt to keep out the shakiness from his voice.

"And after that, I am going take him home for today _and_ tomorrow," Carol added with a glare that said that there was no room for argument. Albus was wise in his decision to not suggest otherwise.

With a piercing stare to all those who dared to invade the privacy of the mother and son, Albus escorted them to the hospital wing. The attempts from one or two idiotic students were rebuffed harshly by Ron, who had decided to tag along with the Potter-Danvers family. Fortunately, no-one else had been injured during the attack, although Luna was behaving odder than usual and told Ron that she would visit the hospital wing later.

For Carol and Harry, the visit to the hospital wing was thankfully brief – both having received minor injuries only. Sirius, on the other hand, had been asked to stay by Madam Pomfrey for an update on his health status and further medical diagnostics. With great reluctance, the man agreed for further examination and bade farewell to Harry and Carol whom had been supplied with a portkey to their apartment by Albus.

"Home sweet home," Carol murmured while supporting Harry with his right arm around her neck. Harry removed it slowly and shakily walked forwards to the kitchen area.

"What do you want?" Harry asked tiredly, as he rubbed his eyes and reached out for the refrigerator for ingredients. His mom's hand stopped him.

"No. We are ordering take-out," Carol stated firmly and gingerly placed his hand back to his side. She motioned to a seat at the dining table. "Sit."

Harry grumbled at the order but did what he was told. Nevertheless, his sore body appreciated the opportunity to sit down and not move for a while, as Carol ordered some Italian take-out and then went to her room to change. She returned a few minutes later wearing a pair of light blue yoga pants that highlighted Carol's long, toned legs and the firmness of her ass. Just as she was putting on a grey-green hoodie the doorbell signalled the arrival of the takeout.

"Bon appétit!" Carol said in a slightly exaggerated French accent and placed the food on the table.

Despite being fatigued, Harry giggled and began devouring his food – table manners be damned! Carol shrugged – deciding that it was excusable for this one time – and also started eating with appalling table manners. By the time he had finished eating, Harry yawned loudly.

"Bedtime, kiddo," Carol declared with a grin.

Harry, too tired to argue back, simply nodded in agreement before being carried into his bedroom and onto his bed. Within moments, he was fast asleep and snoring lightly. Meanwhile, Carol was also getting ready for bed.

_Guess I am tired. Fuck it!_

She stripped off her clothes and threw them on to the floor. With a relaxed sigh, Carol enjoyed the sensation of cool air interact with her naked body and harden her quarter-sized nipples. Her large breasts had surprisingly minimal sag to them and jiggled slightly with each step towards the bed. As she got in to the covers and closed her eyes, Carol's hand almost went to her shaven crotch when it froze and instead went to her pillow.

_Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow._

With a massive yawn, Carol gradually fell asleep, unaware of Harry sneaking groggily in to the bedroom. Not wanting to be alone tonight, Harry silently lifted up the bed cover and snuggled up close from behind her. Due to his exhausted state of mind, he paid no mind to the fact that his mom was in the nude and instantly fell asleep.

* * *

The screams of Mister Sinister filled the dark room. Instead of killing either the boy or Captain Marvel (or preferably both), the clone had failed in its mission and been killed. As a result, the clone's creator was suffering the consequences of her failure.

"You have failed me, Sinister."

The voice was tranquil in its fury and colder than a Frost Giant. Mister Sinister cowered in fear as his eyes darted everywhere within the dark room for its source.

"I-I apol-apologize," Mister Sinister stammered while in a fetal position. He could feel the rage of his master threatening to be released. Maybe his master would be merciful-

Mister Sinister screamed in agony as the dark clutched onto his body and into every crevice. He always thought that he was an evil man, yet the darkness that was invading his body chilled the experimenter to the bone and plagued his mind of horrible, incomprehensible things. In what was really less than twenty seconds or so, Mister Sinister was panting hungrily for air.

"I am being merciful, Sinister. Retrieve the clone's body, and bring it to me immediately."

Within the dark room, an individual was torn on whether to feel pity for the now broken man that was Mister Sinister, or to feel relief that it wasn't them. Said individual was a breathtakingly beautiful woman with luscious blonde hair and green eyes. She stood tall and proud at six-foot-three, with large, heaving breasts seemed to overflow her green, skin-tight bodysuit. The sway of her hips as she walked forwards made her breasts jiggle enticingly with each step.

"Enchantress, you will tear them apart by any means necessary. _Understand_?"

The underlying threat sent shivers down the back of the Asgardian seductress. With a frantic nod of her head, she vanished in a flash of bright green light.

"Fail me again, Sinister, and you will feel what it means to be in the dark."

Minister Sinister bowed deeply as a last attempt to save face.

"What of the dark lord of the British Wizarding World?"

Spine-chilling laughter filled the dark room which made Mister Sinister unintentionally take a step back.

"Tom Riddle will be dealt with ease. Now, retrieve the clone's body from Shield headquarters. Enchantress shall cease the growth of the bond between mother and son."

Seeing that this was basically a dismissal, Mister Sinister hurriedly exited the dark room. If he wanted to live, failure was not an option. With a disgruntled grunt, he teleported away from the meeting place of master.


	4. Calm before the storm

Over the past twelve years, life had never been so good for Lucius Malfoy. Naturally, as the only heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy and subsequently the patriarch of the family, all of life's luxuries were available to him and his family with merely a snap of his fingers (sometimes even less).

Yet, those with power and influence will always seek out for more, and Lucius was no exception. Therefore, when Lord Voldemort rose to power all those years ago, Lucius had joined the Dark Lord in the pursuit of eradicating those unfit to hold the title of wizard/witch. It had been excellent – the torture and slaughter of those below him was intoxicating, and Lucius was so sure that the Dark Lord would win. At the same time, the 'light' was struggling to secure even the smallest of victories. Yes, the Dark Lord was sure to be victorious.

Until, one boy had utterly eradicated the possibility.

The fall of the Dark Lord was quickly followed by the imprisonment/deaths of his top death eaters, and Lucius found himself backed into a corner. It was only through pleading the imperious curse and a heavy dose of sheer luck that he was able to escape any serious punishment – the 10,000 galleon fine was insignificant for such a wealthy family.

Life went onwards, and Lucius began making connections throughout and within the Wizarding World. These connections increased his influence and power to new levels – whatever laws he wanted to be passed, they were done so almost immediately. In fact, if Lucius was honest with himself, the torture of muggles/mudbloods etc had lost its charm after a while.

Yes, life without the Dark Lord was excellent… until two weeks ago.

The Dark Mark – an ever present reminder of what Lucius regarded as his 'foolish youth' – had burned for the first time in over twelve years. Lucius had been eating breakfast when it had happened and almost dropped his spoon in horror.

_ The Dark Lord cannot possibly still be alive! Potter made sure of that! _

However, the burning in his arm dissuaded those lies. The Dark Lord was coming back and would show no mercy to a traitor like him. An evil man/woman would torture you with the cruciatus curse, but the Dark Lord…

With not a single second to waste, Lucius began setting his affairs in order. He ordered his house-elves to pack the family belongings and anything else of value. With fear in their large tennis-ball-like eyes but breathtaking efficiency, the house-elves immediately got to work.

Meanwhile, Lucius disapparated in front of Gringotts bank, where he would shut down access to the Malfoy accounts to only himself and his family. Unbeknownst to the man, a hooded figure crept stealthily from a few meters away. With a smirk from the hooded figure, it wasn't until Lucius was about to set foot into the building when she grabbed onto his shoulder and teleported the both of them out of Diagon Alley.

* * *

 

** New York City  **

** Five Hours Later… **

_ Everything was bright around him. Wherever he was right now, there were no discernible features to give any hints to his location. Yet, a large part of Harry couldn't care less, at the moment. The feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss enveloping his being seemed to wash all those pesky concerns from his mind. _

_ He stretched out his arms to his sides and fell backwards. Instead of a painful impact with the 'floor', Harry breathed a sigh of contentment at the almost overwhelmingly soft 'surface'. It was more comfortable than anything Harry had ever felt in his entire life! _

_ As Harry lost himself to his surroundings, a figure materialized a few away. It was tall and greatly resembled the outlines of a woman with an hourglass figure with massive breasts. In spite of their size, they were surprisingly perky with barely any sag. If Harry had been paying attention, he would have seen that it was  _ **_ merely _ ** _  the outline of a woman. He would have also seen the outline sway 'her' hips as 'she' approached him.  _

_ She pivoted on the spot so that her back was now facing him. This was then followed by the woman arching her back against Harry, which promptly made him aware of her presence. _

" _What the-!?"_

_ Before he could push off the outline of the woman, Harry felt an irresistible pull on his hands. He tried with all of his might to fight it, but Harry soon found his hands snaking their away to the outlines of the woman's huge breasts. _

_ God, they were magnificent! They were so soft yet also firm in his hands. Most importantly, they felt REAL, like they were actual flesh and blood. Harry fondled the breasts and immersed himself in their firmness. He delicately traced his fingers around the sides before cupping them in one swift movement. Needless to say, Harry's penis was harder than granite and became harder still when the woman started to moan gently. _

_ Spurred on, he began eagerly kneading her breasts with a bit more force and pinched her rock-hard nipples. As her moans grew stronger and slightly louder, Harry's erection – painfully hard as it was already – was threatening to burst now. The outline of the woman grinding against his crotch certainly didn't help. _

" _Ugh!" Harry grunted while still kneading her breasts and reciprocating her grinding with his own. "I'm gonna-gonna-!"_

Harry's eyes snapped open as his boxer shorts filled with his seed. He gritted his teeth as he ejaculated the last of his cum and breathed deeply from the aftermath of such a powerful orgasm. Never before had an orgasm given him such a feeling of euphoria!

Harry yawned and then furrowed his eyebrows. In the 'dream' – as hazy as it was becoming now – he had been kneading the best pair of breasts (and only pair, to be honest) that he had ever felt in his life. They had felt so real, too… which was why Harry was puzzled to find himself still holding on to those breasts after being somewhat awake. Additionally, the sensation of the ass that had been grinding against his (now wet) crotch was still present, although no longer grinding against him.

It took a few minutes of his brain to catch up when Harry realized – with wide awake eyes – that the pair of heavenly breasts that he had been fondling and kneading in his dream belonged to the sleeping form of his mom. His  _naked_ mom!

With a gasp of horror, Harry almost fell onto the floor when he practically jumped off of the bed. His brain had shut down at the revelation that the outline of the woman in his dream had been his mom in real life! He had fondled his-

Not wanting to finish that train of thought, Harry rushed out of Carol's bedroom to his bathroom and locked the door. Thankfully, Carol was a heavy sleeper and merely stirred slightly at the slam of the bedroom door.

"What. The. Fuck?" Harry muttered under his breath in front of the bathroom mirror.

He turned the faucet and splashed water on his face before using a towel to dab his face dry.

_ Since when did Mom sleep in the nude!? _

It wasn't the first time that Harry had snuck into his mom's bedroom. But whenever he had done so in the past, she had always been dressed in  _something_!

_ She must have really been tired yesterday. Still… _

The feeling of his mom's ample breasts entered Harry's thoughts again. He had never thought about his mom in such a way before (it was his  _mom_ – adopted or not!). She had always been Carol Danvers – the woman who had given him a proper life and not someone to lust over.

_ Tell that to your boxer shorts. _

Harry blanched at the sight of his stained boxer shorts and removed it with a wave of his hand. Once that mess had been sorted out, Harry was about to start brushing his teeth, when a knock on the bathroom door startled him.

"Harry? Is everything alright in there?" Carol asked with concern evident in her voice.

Harry gulped and steeled himself.

"Yeah, I'm okay! I was just gonna brush my teeth." He was thanking the gods that his voice wasn't giving any hints of a moral dilemma. "Do you need anything?"

From outside of the bathroom, Carol narrowed her eyes at his tone. It was the same tone used whenever her son was  _not_ "okay" but trying to come off as such. Even so, Harry was a teenager now and – remembering what that was like – Carol didn't push for an answer (at least until later).

"I just need to brush my teeth, too. Shield H.Q. called and said that they found a lead on Mister Sinister."

At the mention of the experimenter, Harry felt his blood boil. The bastard had sent an evil Ms Marvel clone to kill his mom and – for what seemed like an eternity – thought that the man had succeeded. Even with the clone dead (and how weird was her death) and his mom alive and well, Harry felt righteous fury coursing through him at the mention of the man but pushed it down before it could dominate his thoughts.

"Come on in," Harry said and unlocked the door. He was relieved to see Carol entering the bathroom dressed in a navy blue sweatshirt and a pair of red, baggy sweatpants.

"You sure you're okay, kiddo?" She asked with worry. She gazed at his reddening and slightly sweaty face. "Are you sick?"

Carol placed the back of her hand against his forehead. She was unaware of the fact that Harry's teenage hormones decided that this 'touch out of motherly concern' equated to 'sexual touch' and was therefore sending blood rushing down into his cock. The tent in his boxer shorts was quickly becoming noticeable and, for once, Harry cursed being above average in the size department.

"Yep! Really,  _really_ sick! I might even throw up!" He cursed internally at how deranged he must be sounding right now. On the other hand, judging by his mom's deeply worried face, Harry kept the ball rolling but not before shoving Carol's toothbrush and cup into her hands. "You might want to brush your teeth in the kitchen!"

With a somewhat forceful shove, Carol was out of the bathroom and its door was slammed shut in front of her face. She blinked.

"If you need anything…" Carol began gently. She could hear her son groan repeatedly, along with the occasional retching sound.

"I will… be fine. Thanks, mom," Harry answered. He retched again when he hit himself with the vomiting spell once more and vomited into the toilet. "Go get Sinister."

He honed in on the sound of his mom's electric toothbrush and subsequent mouth rinsing. As soon as she had finished and the sound of a sonic boom signalled his mom's disappearance, Harry ceased the vomiting spell and cleaned his mouth using magic.

"At least she didn't see my erection," Harry reassured himself as he stood back up again.

Unfortunately, vomiting seemed to have somehow done nothing to his erection, much to Harry's disbelief. The six-inch penis was still standing proud and making a tent from within his boxer shorts. Seeing that it wouldn't go done without a little 'treatment', Harry sat down on the toilet seat, pulled down his boxer shorts and gripped his right hand around his cock.

He leaned his head back against the bathroom wall, as he considered which woman would be in his fantasy this time. One thing was for certain: his mom would definitely be staying out of his fantasies! Almost with a sense of urgency, Harry began jerking off with thoughts about Scarlet Witch.

* * *

 

** In a tavern room somewhere within Asgard… **

Amora huffed at the pitiful man's screams as she  _barely_ twisted his arm. Though, to the man's credit, Lucius had endured hours of her 'playtime'. This was apparent by the literally bloody mess that used to be his cock, as well as the multiple scratch marks and bruises littered across his body.

"Now, as I was saying, Mister Malfoy…" Amora was completely naked, her wonderful body on display to Lucius' hungry (bruised and bleeding) gaze. She paced across the room in agitation, with the sway of her plump ass further captivating him.

"I-I don't-don't have it," Lucius whimpered while trying to sound like his old, proud self. He flinched when she stopped pacing and gave him a piercing glare.

"Lucius," Amora purred seductively, but her eyes gave away her anger. "There is no point in lying to _me_ , even if you  _could_ lie to me."

She squeezed his jaw with just enough force to inflict pain. With satisfaction, she could see Lucius' gaze on her large, milky-white breasts.

"Eyes up here!" Amora ordered, which promptly made Lucius follow it. Inside, Amora was revelling at how far broken the man had become after only a few hours with her. The wife must have been really neglecting her duties.

"Tell me the truth, Lucius." The Enchantress grabbed one of his hands and onto her breast, to which Lucius fondled slowly. "Where is the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

Amora huffed in frustration once she saw that the fool was too busy fondling her bosom. Nevertheless, she kept her cool and smiled coyly at him before leaning into his ear.

"Tell me, Lucius, and I will be yours."

This snapped Lucius out of his lust-filled haze – or at least, for the moment.

"The diary… is in… is in… the hidden room within Malfoy Manor."

Amora grinned wickedly and somewhat relief. The master will not be punishing her – the same could not be said about Mister Sinister, much to the glee of the Enchantress.

"Will I need anything to enter?" Her voice was so soft and alluring, in such that Lucius almost forgot to answer back.

"No."

Lucius' body gave a little spasm before going still – not that Amora particularly cared.

"Mortals," the Enchantress sneered with a roll of her eyes. With a lazy flourish of her hands, Amora clothed herself using magic.

Her outfit consisted of a forest green corset wrapped tightly around her ample bosom which gave off plenty of cleavage; black tights with white interconnecting circles; and black three-inch heels. To top it all off, a matching green tiara/headdress was adorned on her head. The Enchantress then summoned a full-body mirror at the corner of the tavern room, only to barely glance at it before declaring her appearance as perfect as always.

"Goodbye, Lucius. Your aid shall not be forgotten," Amora lied smoothly with a sexy lick of her lips. She didn't bother checking if the man was even still alive or not before teleporting to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

 

"Where the hell do these things keep coming from!?"

What started out as a relatively straightforward mission to retrieve Mister Sinister from his 'lair' had descended into disarray. Or, as Tony had stated earlier during the battle (much to Carol's agreement), descended into "pure motherfucking shit"!

Carol grimaced as she stomped on the now 'deader than dead' remains of Mister Sinister's experiments with mutating bats. The plan had been simple: go in to Mister Sinister's lair – a deep underground cavern network located near the western outskirts of New York City – and get out with Mister Sinister. That was what Director Fury had said to the three of them – her, Iron Man, and Thor.

The Director would have also called the X-Men, but unfortunately they were preoccupied with their own crisis. As a result, instead of taking a minimum of what Carol guessed would have been ten/fifteen minutes, the three Avengers were currently waist-deep battling mutant bat-like creatures created by Mister Sinister.

"Such pitiful beasts are no match for the power of Thor and Mjölnir!"

Carol snorted to herself. Thor was obviously enjoying himself – maybe a little too much – and was pulverizing the attacking swarm of mutant bats.

"Hey, Thor! Try not to be too eager with your hammer!" Iron Man shouted in between repulsor blasts. "Dammit! These things never stop coming!"

Carol fired a beam of cosmic energy that obliterated the row of mutant bats in front of her. This was soon followed by Thor striking down his magical hammer from above and electrocuting a large number of them.

"We have to end this quickly!" She stated with gritted teeth, as more mutant bats flew down from between the cracks of the cavern ceiling and attacked them.

"What d'you think we been doing, Cap!?" Iron man snorted dryly. He released a powerful chest repulsor beam which disintegrated most of the mutant bats and destroyed a huge portion of the cavern walls.

"What the hell, Stark!?" Carol yelled and turned to face Iron Man, who folded his arms with a smug look under his face mask. "You almost caused a cave-in!"

"Relax, Danvers, nothing happened," Tony said, lifting up his faceplate to reveal his shit-eating grin. He then added smugly. "Besides, I know what I'm doing."

As soon as he had uttered those luck-changing words, the sound of rumbling echoed throughout the cavern network and signalled its impending collapse.

"Must you always damn our good fortune with your words, Tony," Thor spoke with exasperation as he readied Mjölnir. If the situation wasn't so serious, Carol would have laughed at Tony struggling to reply with a sufficient comeback.

"Avengers, we need you at H.Q. immediately!" The voice of Deputy Director Maria Hill ordered in their ear via communicator. "We are under attack by Sinister!"

"On our way!" Carol shouted over the sound of the cavern room crashing down around them. A plan suddenly formed in her mind. "Iron Man, Thor; on three, we fire as much as we got while flying upwards! Got it?"

"Understood!" Iron Man stated in understanding of the plan, while Thor nodded in approval of it. Carol braced herself for flight.

"One… Two… Three!"

With a deafening sonic boom, the three Avengers flew upwards through the hole in cavern ceiling at hypersonic speeds. As they flew upwards and occasionally dodged rocks, Carol fired her cosmic beams upwards through her hands, which were soon joined by the combined assault of Thor's lightening and Iron Man's repulsor beams. All together, the combined assault disintegrated any falling rocks and carved an escape route out of the deep cavern network. It took only less than a minute for the three Avengers to break through to the surface, before they headed straight towards SHIELD headquarters.

"Holy shit!" Carol heard Tony curse from behind her, and it was completely justified.

SHIELD headquarters had been set ablaze, with various mutant creatures – some humanoid, others… not so much – attacking the complex. Carol could clearly see the mutilated bodies of several agents littered across the area. Those whom were still alive (if injured) were shooting at the attacking creatures while also taking cover.

"Iron Man, you take care of the ones on the east side! Thor, you take the ones on the west! I'll take the north side! If you can, move the injured to a safe zone!" Carol ordered over the sounds of violence occurring below them.

Thor and Iron Man both gave a sharp nod, and all three headed to their respective areas. Carol quickly got to work on the surrounding creatures while occasionally moving any injured SHIELD personal to a safe zone. She fired powerful blasts of cosmic energy at the incoming creatures which disintegrated them, as well as punching/stomping those who weren't hit, into the ground.

Things were looking up, Carol thought optimistically, as most of the creatures had been destroyed. Therefore, it should have come off as no surprise when things turned to shit and a large explosion obliterated most of the main building of SHIELD headquarters.

"The Director was in there!" a low-level SHIELD agent gasped in terror. Her first day on the job was probably going to be her last.

"Agents, regroup!" a higher-level SHIELD agent barked out which prompted everybody to follow the order immediately.

"We must check whether Director Fury is alive or not," Thor stated with a sombre frown. "Let us hope that he is."

Iron Man fired a couple foam capsules from his wrist gauntlets into the towering flames. The foam engulfed the flames almost instantly and put them out, leaving behind the charred remains of the building. With extreme caution, the three Avengers entered in to the building via the gaping hole left behind from the explosion.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Carol cautioned quietly. She shot a glance at Tony, who was scanning the area. "Iron Man, any signs of the director?"

Anything had survived the fires and/or attack of the mutant creatures had not survived the explosion. The overwhelming stench of burnt flesh and various materials filled the air. Nonetheless, Carol was confident that Fury – being one of the toughest son-of-a-bitches she knew – had somehow survived.

"Give me a sec," Iron man replied and added in explanation. "The scans are almost complete."

"No need, Man of Iron. I believe that I have found the director."

Thor's voice was beyond furious and arcs of lightning sparked out around his body. Carol and Tony looked towards where the Norse god was currently staring at – the latter lifting up his faceplate to vomit at the nauseating sight.

Director Nick Fury – or rather, what was  _left_  of him – was dangling from the charred wall with both of his bloody hands nailed to it. A huge section of his torso had been ripped off which meant that a few of his internal organs were hanging down – the burnt remains of one or two evident on the floor. Additionally, several gaping slashes had been made across the relatively undamaged parts of Nick's torso, all of which seemed to have been bleeding heavily. To top it all off, Nick's remaining eyes looked as if it had been forcibly removed by hand.

"By the Gods!" Thor gasped and then roared with utter disgust. "WHATEVER FOUL MONSTER DID THIS WILL SUFFER THE WRATH OF THOR ODINSON!"

Carol resisted the urge to join Tony, who had  _just_ stopped vomiting. The sight of the mutilated corpse of Fury was absolutely sickening and filled her with righteous anger. Whoever/Whatever was responsible for  _this_ should better run for the hills, or else Carol was going to make them suffer. Even so, judging by Thor's reaction, she would have to wait in line.

"I… I managed to pick up somebody just below us, on the scans," Tony murmured, still reeling from shock and horror from underneath his faceplate. "Jesus…"

Sure, Tony had never  _liked_ Nicholas Fury, but the man did not deserve such a gruesome fate.

"My scans show it to be human."

Carol steeled herself and cleared her thoughts. If somebody was still alive, it was their duty to save them. Nick would have never wanted them to lose sight of their duty.

"Let's go."

The three Avengers headed down to where the survivor was located. Said survivor was Maria Hill who fired her handgun at them while on the floor behind a sturdy table acting as cover. Thankfully, the three Avengers were invulnerable to 9mm bullets.

"Maria," Carol breathed out in relief – formalities be damned. The Deputy Director was alive, albeit with what looked like some serious injuries.

"Avengers…" Maria had barely managed to say these words, before she collapsed into unconsciousness.

Carol rushed over to the unconscious agent, while Tony began examining the severity of her wounds. Maria sported a massive, bleeding wound on her forehead and a deep gash across her right side. Evidence of dried blood caked the agent's singed hair and SHIELD uniform – the latter of which had been burnt off in various places and exposing second-degree burns.

"I will take her to the nearest hospital," Tony said with deadly, uncharacteristic seriousness. "Captain, you need to check that everything in SHIELD is where it should be."

"And I will accompany you," Thor added and tightened his grip on Mjölnir. "It would be better for us to stick together, in case our enemy is still here."

In any other instance, Carol would have argued back. However, images of Nick Fury's mutilated corpse came rushing back into her thoughts, so she kept her mouth shut and led the way to what was left of the basement level. It took many hours of thorough checking, and it seemed as if nothing was stolen. That is, until a missing body was reported by one of the senior coroners.

"Which body?" Carol questioned with rising dread. She was handed the file belonging to the missing body. If her hunch was right, then she knew exactly who was responsible for the attack on SHIELD.

"That is you!" Thor said with wide eyes after peering over her shoulder, to get a good look at the file. The picture in the file was indeed the Ms Marvel clone; her missing eye having been cleaned out by SHIELD coroners. "Or, at least the abomination cloned by Mister Sinister."

Carol growled but was internally uneasy. If Sinister had gotten a hold of the clone, then he was most likely planning to 'resurrect' it. Sure, she had beaten the clone in a fight (alongside Harry), but if Sinister could somehow improve the clone and the clone went after her son again…

"Go," Thor commanded gently, after having seen Carol's internal strife show on her face. "I shall deal with things here."

Carol opened her mouth to argue, when he raised a hand to interrupt her.

"You are worried about your son. Therefore, you will not be able to concentrate fully on the task at hand." Thor's wise words were not unkind. He then chuckled, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a cheeky smile. "Besides, do you not think me capable of dealing with matters here?"

Seeing that she wasn't going to win (and technically not wanting to win), Carol squeezed Thor's shoulder in gratitude before flying off in to the night sky and back to her son. By the time that she entered the apartment, Harry was already asleep in bed.

_ Stop being a worrywart, Danvers! After Strange modified the apartment, nobody and nothing can hurt us in here. _

Carol took a deep breath to calm down. Her son was safe and sound in this apartment. That is what she kept repeating to herself over and over again, as she headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. Once there, Carol unzipped the jumpsuit from the front and let it drop to the bathroom floor before stepping out of it. The uniform had been unpleasant to where after so many hours fighting in it, so it came as a relief when it came off.

Water practically fired out of the showerhead with a click of a button and a turn of the faucet. As soon as it had hit her body, Carol could not help but let out a small moan. The sensation of clean, rushing water on her face temporarily washed away the worries about the Mister Sinister and not to mention the horrific death of Nick Fury.

_ Things are so fucked up! _

Carol grabbed the showerhead and placed it just above her breasts. While one hand held the showerhead, the other alternated between washing each massive breast. After that, she lowered the showerhead down towards her shaven crotch area and began using her available hand to thoroughly clean it. The fast-flowing water hitting her crotch felt amazing; if Carol's stiffening nipples were of any indication.

_ Fuck! It's been too long! _

Her fingers slithered into her pussy. Usually, Carol would have taken it slow and gradually eased herself to an orgasm or two. On the other hand, because it had been such a shitty day and such a long time since she had gotten off, Carol's fingers went to town with no mercy.

"Oh, fuck!"

The showerhead dropped on to the shower floor, and for a second, Carol was afraid that Harry would come knocking to check on her. Luckily, after a few minutes as still as a statue, Carol resumed fingering herself like there was no tomorrow.

"Ugh, yeah. Right there."

With the other hand now free, she used it to alternate between cupping each breast and kneading them roughly. Her fingers were switching between massaging her labia and furiously rubbing her clitoris.

"Almost… almost…"

The combined assault from both of her hands rapidly brought her close to orgasm, and – if Carol was completely honest with herself – she could not care less if Harry had walked in to the bathroom right now. In fact, she  _wanted_  him to walk in right now!

_ Wait, wh-? _

A powerful orgasm struck Carol with the force of a million suns and consequently stopped her train of thought. She nearly fell down against the shower corner at the strength of the orgasm – the hand that she had used to finger herself cupping her pussy, while the other was used to support herself against the wall. The showerhead lay forgotten for the time being, as Carol tried to regain coherency.

_ What the fuck? That was… Wow, I really did need that. _

Shaking her head, Carol switched off the shower and put the showerhead back in its proper place. After that, she grabbed a nearby towel and hastily dried herself.

"That was really fucked up, Danvers," Carol told to her reflection in the mirror while using the towel to dry her hair. "I really need to get laid."

Unbeknownst to Carol, Harry had been startled awake by the crash of the showerhead. Initially worried about an intruder, he had used his magical senses to discover – to his comfort – that it was only his mom. Plus, Harry snorted to himself, what intruder would simply decide to take a shower.

He was about to head to the bathroom and knock on the door, when the faintest of moans reached his ears and found himself developing an erection. Having already masturbated seven times over the past sixteen hours, Harry was sure that the naughty and in 'no way forgivable' thoughts about his mom had finally disappeared. Indeed, they had finally disappeared, until he heard the obvious sounds of his mom masturbating in the shower – Harry did not dare to use magic to gaze through the walls to make sure.

_ Stop it, Harry! She. Is. Your. MOM! Sure, she isn't your biological mom, so technically- NO, stop it! God, this is so FUCKED up! _

Harry winced slightly, as his erection started to become uncomfortable. He needed to deal with it quickly,  _without_ fantasizing about his mom.

_ Don't think about mom. Don't think about mom. Do NOT think about mom. _

The sentence/plea was repeated endlessly, as Harry pulled down his boxer shorts and wrapped his hand around his erection. Harry tried desperately to conjure up fantasies about any of the other woman. Yet, no matter the sexiness of the woman – Jean Grey, Felicia Hardy, Jennifer Walters (as She-Hulk), Greer Nelson (as Tigra), Natasha Romanov, Betsy Braddock – Harry couldn't get rid of his erection. Sue Storm and Shanna the She-Devil were out from his usual choices, due to their resemblances to his mom.

Harry let go of his cock and pulled up his boxer shorts. If he couldn't masturbate to any of his usual fantasies (barring the obvious no-no's) and WOULD NOT do it with his mom in mind, he decided to try and fall back to sleep. Hopefully, by the time morning came, this nightmare would cease and things would be back to normal again.

Unfortunately, that was never going to happen. Though, this was not necessarily a bad thing. No, good things were just on the horizon. But, in order for there to be a rainbow, a storm must occur first.

* * *

 

In the place between places, where darkness and light are forbidden to enter, he waits and plans with patience. However, said patience had occasionally been tested by the imbecile known as Mister Sinister – an idiotic name for an idiot excuse of a man. He had been imprisoned in this 'place' for eons as punishment for his beliefs. Therefore, he needed the help of the Mister Sinister and Enchantress – the latter of whom was merely a whore for everybody and everything.

Soon, he would return to the Universe and complete his goals. He was beyond comprehension, and few could stand in his way. In spite of this, one could never be too cautious; there were those who posed a threat to his plans and thus needed to be eliminated by any means necessary. Those plans were rapidly coming to fruition.

"Well done, Enchantress." His voice was silky and affable, albeit with underlying coolness. It no longer became 'underlying' towards Mister Sinister. "Your actions must also be commended."

Mister Sinister shivered involuntarily. He knew that one small step in the wrong direction would cost him dearly. The Enchantress, although not in trouble, was biting her bottom lip in nervousness. On the 'ground' placed in front of her was the diary of Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Enchantress, you will ensure that the diary falls into the right hands. Mister Sinister," the experimenter gulped and tried to stand firm, to no avail. "How is the clone?"

"Recovering rapidly," Mister Sinister informed briskly, with his hands behind his back. "Enhancements are already being applied."

Bone-chilling laughter that drained the soul of anything positive filled the place. Needless to say, Mister Sinister and the Enchantress were thoroughly disturbed.

"Excellent. We shall strike when the boy is at his happiness. When that moment comes, the clone shall  _rip_  his heart out. I will be unstoppable."

His laughter continued to haunt the surroundings. Meanwhile, in one of Mister Sinister's many hidden laboratories, the Ms Marvel clone slept soundly within a cylindrical containment pod — the outside surroundings shrouded in darkness. She was completely naked, and her missing eye had been replaced with the dark-skinned eye of the late Nick Fury. 

The lights of the laboratory activated, to reveal eight cylindrical pods (four on the right of Ms Marvel and four on the left), all of which contained a single clone of Carol Danvers in each pod. Each clone was at a differing development level ranging from a couple weeks old, to the oldest at eight years old. As of this moment, the clones were nothing but blank slates, but soon... they would fulfill their purpose.


	5. Rising fire

The festive season had arrived and spread across the world. From the youngest child filled with excitement for presents from Santa, to those whom simply yearned for the winter break, the spirit of Christmas was welcomed with open arms. In fact, even the supervillain community was feeling its effects, as no (major) crimes had occurred in the days approaching Christmas.

New York City was currently blanketed in several feet of snow, and it was only through a sheer miracle that traffic was deemed "not bad". Then again, the citizens of the Big Apple dealt with things like alien invasions every Tuesday, so their opinions tended to be understated. Nevertheless, as carollers travelled in packs from door to door, things were peaceful and joyous.

Back in Hogwarts, Harry was having the time of his life and laughing his head off, as he dodged the rapidly incoming snowballs fired by the Weasley twins. He sprinted across the courtyard and hid behind a magically-reinforced wall of snow acting as cover. Practically every inch of the castle grounds were covered in two feet of snow, with Christmas decorations littering the Great Hall and corridors. When he had woken up in the early morning, Harry couldn't resist the urge to go outside and enjoy the snow, even if Ron and the others in the dorm complained about his 'wake-up call' at six-in-the-morning.

Despite living in New York City, a place known for its levels of snow, Harry had always been excited by the stuff. Of course, when he had first been adopted by Carol and saw snow for the first time, Harry had almost fainted in awe at the sight. When he had lived with the Dursleys, Harry had been kept inside of his cupboard/bedroom during snow days, probably for petty reasons. Thus, it wasn't until that memorable day, when the sight of snow blanketing the streets did it become something magical.

Speaking of his mom, Harry cringed slightly at what he dubbed as 'the incident'. After returning to Hogwarts, 'the incident' had plagued his mind like an incessant fly. The sounds of his mom's moans had replayed over and over again in his thoughts, and the desire to masturbate over various fantasies – his favorite being the one where he slipped in to the bathroom and 'helped' her – had become almost too much to refuse. At first, Harry had thought something was wrong with him and immediately began testing himself for any signs of manipulation. To some relief, there were none, but that only served to make Harry feel even guiltier.

Thankfully, as the days passed and his mom wasn't there with him, it gradually became easier to stop seeing his mom as a sexual fantasy. It had also helped to think about earlier memories – whether it was helping his eight-year-old self with a scraped knee, or his mom tucking him in at night. Now, whenever he thought about 'the incident', Harry would cringe at the fact that he had lusted after his mom and almost masturbated over her. Looking back, it felt so _wrong_. After all, adopted or not, Carol Danvers was his mom. He had no desire to fuck his birth mother, so why would his mom be any different?

Harry somersaulted over the wall of snow and narrowly avoided the shower of snowballs that buffeted the wall of snow. He then pivoted to the side to _barely_ avoid a snowball that had come from nowhere.

_Damn! The twins are gaining on me, and all my teammates are down. Still don't know where Luna is._

The snowball fight consisted of two teams: Team Lightning Cannon (Harry, Ron, and Neville) and Team Crazy Mischief (Fred, George, and Luna). After each team had selected their members, all hell had broken loose – the first 'casualty' being Neville, who was almost immediately knocked out by a barrage of snowballs.

Luna had disappeared early on in the fight, occasionally throwing a few snowballs at the opposing team, while the twins showed no mercy and eventually managed to hit Ron. This left Harry as the sole member of Team Lightning Cannon, as he barely dodged incoming snowballs fired from the twins' snow fort. A part of him wanted to surrender, not wanting to suffer a barrage of snowballs, but that part was quickly smothered by his stubbornness to win.

Harry cursed under his breath. He really shouldn't have pranked them last week with Malfoy's love confession. Oh well, reap what you sew!

"I hear that Hogsmeade is great place for dates during this time of year!" he teased with a shit-eating grin while weaving through the courtyard. "Malfoy doesn't seem to have a date yet!"

A plan was forming in Harry's mind. All the twins had to do was take the bait.

"I tell ya, Malfoy seemed real eager to pair up with either one of you guys… if the suggestions straight from the pages of Kamasutra were any indication!"

From behind cover, Harry could hear the twins growl under their breaths at the reminder of the prank; they had taken the bait. Still, he remained cautious and alert.

"What was your favorite suggestion?" Harry waited for a few seconds before adding with a smirk. "Mine was definitely the one where you guys use your arms to-"

It was as if time had slowed to a crawl, as the twins revealed themselves from the snow fort and exposed themselves. Both stood side-by-side and thirsty for payback but were unaware that they were now standing in the perfect spot for their demise.

Not leaving a single second to waste, Harry sprinted towards them with a battle cry and a snowball griped in each hand. He threw the one in his right hand at a certain angle towards the fort pillar adjacent to Fred, to which it then ricocheted off and hit the back of George's head. This provided Harry with the opportunity to hit the distracted Fred with the second snowball directly in the face and send him crashing to the ground. With the twins down and out, all he had deal with now was-

A snowball hit Harry from behind his head and followed by four more to the back. Harry blinked and slowly did a one-eight-degree turn.

With a large pile of snowball beside her and one in her hand, Luna stood there with a serene smile.

"Hello, Harry." There was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I believe this means I win."

Harry laughed and shook his head in amusement. Luna had done what she did best and popped out from nowhere. One day, he would find out how she did it.

"We bow down to your superiority," Harry joked with an exaggerated bow of his head. "No mere mortal can ever hope to win against you."

Luna's smile grew wider. This was the first time anyone had 'made fun of her' without truly making fun of her.

"I hope the twins don't feel too badly about losing." She frowned slightly, as they went over to check on the still unconscious twins. "After all, Loser's Lurgy lowers one's performance quite a bit."

At these moments, Harry found it was best to simply shrug his shoulders. Even though Luna spoke about things that he was pretty sure didn't exist (but you never know), his friend was still totally awesome.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" Harry shouted down at the twins and smirked when it startled them back to consciousness. "Does anything hurt... besides your egos?"

Fred and George (but particularly the former) glared at him, albeit in a mixture of awe – at how they were knocked out – and frustration _because_ they had been knocked out.

"How in bloody hell did you to that?" Fred asked with a wince, as he got up from his sore buttocks.

"It didn't seem like magic," George noted with an impressed tone, when it clicked. "You used angles, didn't you?"

Harry grinned at them and folded his arms across his chest.

"A little from column A… and a little from a column B."

Fred snorted, while George chuckled at the answer. Luna had somehow disappeared again.

"Keep your eyes open, Harry…" Fred began with a grin that would have made lesser men shiver in dread.

".. Not that we are threatening you, or anything," George finished with the same, dread-inducing grin.

The twins gave each other a look and then headed back to Gryffindor tower – no doubt cooking up schemes against their rival.

"See you at the Burrow!" they called out, and Harry was thankful that they wouldn't try anything there (hopefully).

Ron, who was probably either catching up on some homework or on some sleep, had invited him for Christmas. According to his best mate, Mrs Weasley was just about ready to send him a Weasley jumper and some fudge, which he was apparently still going to receive – invitation or no invitation.

At first, Harry was torn. If he was still living with the Dursleys, he would have taken the offer in less than a heartbeat. Yes, spending Christmas with his best mate would be awesome. On the other hand, he didn't want to celebrate Christmas without his mom. Every Christmas, they would watch the Die Hard trilogy ("Four and five don't exist, kiddo.") and drink hot cocoa. Harry was beyond thankful that he didn't have sexual thoughts about her anymore.

Fortunately, Ron had told him that he could invite his mom, too. Therefore, when December the twenty-first arrived, Harry found himself onboard the Hogwarts Express playing 'Marvel Kombat', which was projected on to the wall via his StarkPhone. Harry was 'Player One' playing as Doctor Strange, while Ron was 'Player Two' playing as Banshee.

"Mum makes the best fudge," Ron told him, as Banshee jumped over Dr Strange to avoid an attack. The redhead was introduced to the game earlier in the school year, although it was by a suggestion from Dean Thomas. It wasn't long before Ron learned how to play using Harry's spare StarkPhone and was hooked.

"My older brothers Bill and Charlie will be there, too. They're really forward to meeting you."

Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration. Ron was _ridiculously_ good at the game, even though Harry had been playing it for much longer.

"Cool. You never told me what Bill does; only that he works in Egypt." A victorious grin stretched across his face, as Doctor Strange was close to beating Banshee.

"He works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker," Ron explained and then took a deep breath. Banshee was close to death. "It's really wicked stuff. Might even go into it when I'm older."

On the projection screen, Banshee was now kicking Doctor Strange's ass. Harry gritted his teeth, whereas Ron grinned. It took shorter than a couple of minutes, before Banshee was declared the winner.

"How the hell did you get so good?" Harry asked in disbelief, to which Ron smiled smugly.

"Practice, Harry. Maybe one day you'll beat your elders."

Harry scowled in response but the effect was partially ruined by the small smile creeping on his face. He closed the app and put the StarkPhone back into the pocket of his Spider-man jacket.

"Who won?"

Now that Harry had become used to it, Luna's seemingly sudden appearance adjacent to him came as no surprise. In the seat between them, a dozen or so chocolate frogs were now scattered across it. Luna was already halfway through one of them.

"Who do you think?" Ron's pleased expression made Harry roll his eyes good-naturedly.

"Harry," Luna answered with a straight face before dissolving into giggles.

Harry and Ron soon followed. The sound of laughter and giggles filled the train compartment and only died down when the former projected the eighth installment of the Star Wars saga on to one of the walls.

* * *

"Nick Fury was… one of the best in the spy organization," Captain Steve Rogers spoke with a soft, yet firm voice at the small crowd attending the funeral. He was currently in uniform (the same as everybody else in the crowd), with his mighty shield strapped to his back, as he delivered his speech from the podium. The funeral was held in a secluded church of unknown religion, as per the instruction of Nicholas Joseph Fury.

"We may not have seen eye-to-eye a lot of the time, but… Nick was a good man."

After Nick Fury's death, SHIELD had been a mess. Those with high (enough) levels of clearance was immediately informed of the circumstances around the former director's demise, while those without were left to guess and sometimes spread rumors. Mister Sinister's attack on SHIELD headquarters had also left a lot of dead agents behind. In spite of this, SHIELD was resilient, and it wasn't too long before there was a new director: Maria Hill. Cool, efficient, and pissed off without being emotionally compromised, Maria was the ideal candidate for the position.

Even so, no new leads on Mister Sinister had been found, despite SHIELD's best efforts. Nevertheless, the spy organization persisted in their search and (with the help of the X-Men and other groups), Director Hill knew that it was only a matter of time before Sinister showed his face again. But first, a man such as Nicholas Joseph Fury needed a proper funeral. Among the funeral crowd, Carol was one of the many superheroes/vigilantes paying their respects to the deceased former director.

"Mister Sinister, and anybody else who was responsible, will pay dearly for what they've done," Steve said, his eyes hardening with resolve. "Justice will be served."

Steve stepped off of the podium and took a seat near the front of the crowd, in between Janet Van Dyne and Hank Pym.

The funeral proceeded with a sombre mood, as various superheroes/vigilantes went up to the podium and spoke their eulogies. Each eulogy was brief and simplistic, along with not sugar-coating any truths – just as Nick would have liked it, Carol thought dryly, albeit with a hint of fondness. The former director knew all too well that, even though they respected him, nobody really _liked_ him.

After the final person – a distraught Agent 13 – had finished their eulogy, the funeral attendants gradually filed out of the church and headed to their respective homes. Yet, Carol couldn't quite shake off the lingering somberness from the funeral, even when she arrived back in the apartment, to get ready for Christmas at the Weasleys.

Within every fiber of her body, Carol could feel that something was coming; something bigger than Sinister. Ever since Harry had returned to the Hogwarts, it was as if every alarm bell inside of her had activated. Speaking of Harry…

During the day that her son had stayed with her, Carol took note of how tense Harry was, whenever she was talking to him. At first, nothing but concern had filled her, and her first thought was that he was still sick. However, that concern soon turned to suspicion, as Harry would never look her in the eyes and talk as if he wasn't being interrogated. Additionally, he would almost always blush whenever she would attempt to make conversation with him.

These behavioral changes had set off alarm bells, and Carol hoped to the Gods that her son wasn't doing anything illegal and/or amoral. Though, eventually, the clues added up, and Carol couldn't help but smack her forehead at her own obliviousness. She had seen this type of behavior change before, many years ago, with her misogynistic father.

It was roughly twenty-four years ago, when Joseph Danvers had started to treat Carol differently. At first, she had thought that the higher allowance and new clothes were her dad's way of apologizing for his sexist behavior. It actually gave Carol some hope that her dad was changing for the better… until the clothes became more revealing, and her dad had begun sneaking glances at her whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

Carol shuddered.

She could still remember – after receiving plenty of inappropriate clothing, for the past few weeks from her dad – how he would stare hungrily at her, like a piece of meat. Her mom, Marie Danvers, had done nothing and had initially dismissed her concerns. At least, until one day, when Carol had overhead her mom yelling at her dad about his "sick fantasies involving his own daughter" and made him sleep on the couch for the next three months. After that, things in the Danvers household had been tense, and Joseph Danvers went back to treating her brothers like they were his only children.

If this was the case with Harry, then Carol knew that she had to immediately rectify the situation. Even if she wasn't his birth mother, he was still her son, in all but blood. She had to stop this, before it could go out of hand and somebody got hurt.

Although, judging by the letters she had received from him, Harry seemed to have gotten over it, much to her relief. The letters were like they had always been – full of happiness; a feeling for home; and _familial_ love. Besides, Harry was nothing like her dad, and Carol was thankful that she had cut ties with the rest of her family, _especially_ her dad.

She stood naked in front of her bedroom closet and rifled through its contents for something to wear. Unbeknownst to Carol, the Enchantress stood invisibly from a few feet away, and mentally appraised the captain's attractive body.

If this had been any other time, Amora would have ravished the superheroine, especially as Carol bent down to retrieve a dropped article of clothing and unknowingly exposed her delectable ass. Unfortunately, time was of the essence and if she wanted to live, she needed to play her part in the plan.

In one hand, the Enchantress held the diary of Tom Riddle, while the other summoned small, violet bolts of Asgardian magic. The bolts struck Carol from behind but did nothing to alert her to the Enchantress' presence. With the task fulfilled Amora teleported out of the bedroom.

Meanwhile, Carol – who was initially struggling to choose what to wear – was hit with a burst of inspiration and began searching near the back of the closet. She was unaware that magic was heavily influencing her decision, even as she searched fervently for the needed dress. When she finally found it, Carol let out an uncharacteristically girly giggle. Harry was _definitely_ going to love it.

* * *

Harry stared at the Burrow and couldn't help but be amazed.

Although it was nowhere near a mansion, Harry could practically see the magic holding the house together. Said magic was advanced in its nature and several years older than he had expected. Most importantly, though, the place gave off the feeling of home.

"It's… not much," Ron admitted sheepishly, as they got out of the car. "But it's home."

"Welcome to the Burrow, Harry!" Arthur Weasley declared with pride evident in his voice, as he took out Ron's luggage from the boot of the blue Ford Anglia used to pick them up. He then motioned to the twins. "Boys, take Harry's suitcase!"

"It's fine, Mister Weasley. Thanks, anyway," Harry reassured the older man and took his suitcase before anybody could help.

After parting ways with Luna (for the time being, since she apparently lived quite nearby) Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins had headed out of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, to find Mister Weasley waiting for them. Arthur Weasley was tall and thin, with blue eyes and bright red hair, although he was balding slightly. Harry winced internally at the Weasley patriarch's poor job of blending in with muggles, as apparent from the mismatched and old-fashioned suit.

Nevertheless, the Weasley patriarch was kind and enthusiastic about Harry's "in-depth knowledge of the muggle world", with plenty of questions like the "function of a rubber duck". Anybody else would have been annoyed after the twentieth question, but Harry was just glad that he could add another person on the list of those who couldn't care less that he was the 'Boy-Who-Lived'. Though, he did wonder how somebody who was the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office knew so little of the Muggle world.

Harry entered the Burrow and was impressed by the efficiency of the kitchen, as pots and pans scrubbed themselves, and cutlery and crockery were put away by magic. Yet, nothing could compare to the Weasley matriarch, who was moving with such fluidity around the kitchen area with practiced expertise and put household magic to shame. The chubby, redheaded woman was the Queen of the kitchen and preparing the Christmas dinner for the late afternoon.

"Harry! How are you, my dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, after seeing him enter the house. The Weasley matriarch held an aura of warmth and hearth, and Harry could also feel a sense of underlying protectiveness.

"What are we? Chopped liver?" Fred snorted, to which Mister Weasley shook his head in amusement.

"This is Harry's first time at the Burrow," Molly admonished gently and then added with some sternness. "So, I expect you two to be on your best behavior."

"Yeah, 'cos we cause all the trouble," George scoffed with a roll of his eyes. "Ginny and Ron are _completely_ innocent."

"Don't bring me into this," Ginny said with a glare at the twins, only to turn red and rush off to her bedroom when she realized that she spoke.

"Right mental, she is," Ron stated with a snicker. "Whenever you're nearby, she's quiet. Otherwise, she's a chatterbox."

"Ginny is just shy," Mister Weasley reassured Harry, who was praying that Ginny did not have a crush on him. "Give it some time, and she will be back to normal."

"Or she'll declare her undying love for you," George suggested nonchalantly. He grinned cheekily. "Good luck."

The twins headed upstairs to their bedroom, while Mister Weasley went outside.

"C'mon, mate. I'll show you my room," Ron said with an infectious grin on his face.

Harry found himself led upstairs and into a small, cramped bedroom. He could immediately tell it was Ron's, by the many Chudley Cannons posters plastered on the walls. On the worn-out, second-hand desk was Ron's new owl, Pigwidgeon, who was sleeping soundly in his face. The subject of 'Scabbers' was still a sore subject for Ron. Pigwidgeon had come from Harry and Sirius as an apology for costing Ron a pet. Sirius, who was well on his way to a full recovery, was going to move into the apartment next week.

"Nice!" Harry grinned and then put on a worried expression. "But there is something wrong here…"

He suppressed the urge to grin, as Ron started to grow anxious.

"Somebody put quite a few Chudley Cannon posters on the walls! What monster would do such a thing!?"

Harry ducked to avoid an annoyed smack from Ron and laughed at his best friend's vexed expression.

Meanwhile, in Ginny's room, the twelve-year-old girl was currently cursing herself for drawing Harry's attention. She paced across the room and was unaware of the black diary landing on her desk.

Of course, Ginny wanted to be acknowledged by the Boy-Who-Lived. But, at the same time, she felt that she made a fool of herself in front of him. Now, he would never see her as anything more than 'Ron's little sister'.

Ginny stopped pacing and took a deep, calming breath. She then stared at herself in the mirror and frowned. At twelve-year-old, Ginny had expected the changes her mum had described would happen to her. Sure, she didn't expect to grow massive breasts overnight and/or an ass, but her reflection showed barely any signs of physical change. At best, she could make out the small bumps of her developing breasts poking out from underneath her indigo Weasley jumper.

_Be patient, Ginny. Maybe it will take a few years._

Unfortunately, patience was never one of Ginny's strong suits. She wanted Harry to notice her now, especially since she couldn't talk to him properly. With a frustrated sigh, Ginny took out her transfiguration homework from her suitcase on the bed. She then turned to her desk, only to find what seemed to be a diary with a small note attached to the front cover.

"Merry Christmas, Ginny. Sorry if this is a bit early, but I couldn't wait to give this to you. The diary will act as your interactive friend Tom; it's helped me for years. Remember, this is a secret gift, so keep it will be our little secret," Ginny read under her breath and then broke into a grin. "Love, _Harry_."

Ginny was never one of those 'girly girls' but the excited squeal that came out of her was, in her mind, completely justified. _Harry_ had given her a secret present! This _had_ to mean something, at least!

She dipped her quill in ink and began writing in her new diary; the transfiguration homework was now forgotten at the farthest corner of the desk.

**_Hello, Tom. My name is Ginny Weasley._ **

The ink on the page dried up and was quickly replaced with someone else's words.

**~Hello, Ginny. Harry has told me so much about you; wonderful things.~**

With another deep breath to calm down, Ginny continued writing in the diary. Harry had said wonderful things about her!

**_Really? Like what?_ **

Ginny held her breath in anticipation.

**~He positively gushed about how pretty and smart you are.~**

For Ginny, it felt as if her dreams had come true. Harry had "gushed" about her! But was she really pretty? The youngest Weasley bit her bottom lip.

**_But I'm not pretty, Tom. Are you sure Harry said that?_ **

**~He did. But, if you don't feel pretty, then I can help you.~**

Ginny perked up with growing interest.

**~Ginny, I can make it so that 'beautiful' will be an insult to you. Harry will be head-over-heels in love with you. Trust me.~**

There was a brief moment of hesitation. Tom could be trusted, right? After all, Harry had bought the diary. Of course Tom could be trusted.

**_I trust you, Tom._ **

* * *

Amora strode confidently along the dark hallway of Mister Sinister's latest lair. The seductive sway of her hips entranced the bodyguards who worked for Mister Sinister. Each bodyguard was wearing grey, heavily-padded body armor and a black visor which masked their identities.

The Enchantress smirked and then blew a kiss to her many admirers. To think they had a chance with her! Oh well, she thought wickedly, she might as well make them _think_ they did.

She entered the laboratory, where Mister Sinister was currently working in. The experimenter was jotting down notes on a clipboard while observing the Ms Marvel clone placed within a cylindrical containment pod.

"Sinister," Amora greeted bitterly, partly because the man was immune to her charms.

"Amora," Mister Sinister responded with dull interest, never taking his eyes off of the clipboard. "Have you done it?"

"Yes. The tracker has been placed on Carol Danvers, and my magic is working its way within her," Amora explained while examining her nails. "Soon, my magic will prevent the woman and her son from coming together."

Mister Sinister's eyebrows rose in skeptic ism. Magic was something that he viewed as either "nonsense" or "ineffective nonsense".

"It WILL work," Amora sneered and then added with a smug smirk. "And unlike you, Sinister, I will not fail our master."

At this remark, Mister Sinister gritted his teeth in anger. Once this was over, the Asgardian was going to suffer by his hands. He would relish the day.

"Is the clone ready? Or will it fail again?"

He smiled darkly at the Enchantress.

"She is more than ready. It is now nigh-impossible for the clone to lose to Captain Marvel; not after I have implemented the improvements. Now, begone!"

He dismissed Amora from the laboratory, much to her indignation.

"It is time for you to awaken. Rise."

From within the containment pod, Ms Marvel's different colored eyes snapped open.

* * *

Harry checked the time on his StarkPhone and frowned. His mom was rarely late, and it was usually because of a serious situation. If that was the case, then he would have been told about it. He was almost about to start worrying, when he received a text from her.

_Sorry, I'm running late. Wardrobe malfunction. Be there in fifteen minutes or so._

He let out a sigh of relief. At least, she wasn't in any danger. With that in mind, Harry kept himself busy. He played (and lost) Wizard's chess with Ron; introduced himself to Bill and Charlie; and then introduced Mister Weasley to 'How It's Made', much to Mrs Weasley's exasperation. Roughly fifteen minutes after the text, Harry could sense that the person knocking on the Burrow door was his mom. Still it did not prepare him for what she was wearing, and all of Harry's inappropriate feelings rushed back at double of their original force.

Carol was wearing a bright red, sleeveless dress, with a plunging neckline that showed off her cleavage. Her breasts seemed to overflow from the confines of the low-cut dress, and the part of the dress _barely_ covering Carol's ass was faring no better. To top it all off, a pair of matching four-inch heels enhanced her long legs, while the minimal make-up on Carol's face enhanced her natural beauty. Her blonde hair – having grown back to the length of her Ms Marvel days – had been braided to the side. In her hands, she held a bottle of expensive red wine.

"Hey, kiddo."

Harry gaped back.

"Gonna let me in?" she smirked, to which he motioned for her to enter. The Weasleys – who were still being mesmerized by an episode of 'How It's Made' – were snapped back into focus and noticed Carol standing in the doorway.

"I think you should let her in, mate," Ron suggested gently with a nudge of his elbow. He then waved at her. "Hi, Carol."

"Hey, Ron," Carol greeted back, while Harry gradually came back down to Earth. She then walked up to Mister and Mrs Weasley. "I hope you guys like wine."

"Oh, you shouldn't have!" Mrs Weasley stated with a slight shake of head. "It looks so expensive."

Nonetheless, the Weasley matriarch was grateful and placed the wine bottle on to the dining table.

"Thank you, Carol," Mister Weasley said with a warm smile.

"Sorry, I'm late. I had to change outfits after dealing with a situation," Carol explained, as everybody got seated at the table and the food was everything was set out.

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Charlie sat on one side of the table, in the following order. On the other side sat Carol, Molly, Ginny, and Bill, also in the following order. Arthur was sat at the head of the table.

"Everything looks amazing, Mrs Weasley."

At this compliment, Mrs Weasley blushed.

"Thank you, and please, call me Molly."

"You look hot, Carol!" Fred shouted out appreciatively, only to receive a ferocious glare from Mrs Weasley.

"Fred Weasley! You do not talk to women that way!" the Weasley matriarch scolded, and Harry was suddenly reminded of a saber-tooth tiger. She then turned to Carol. "Sorry about Fred. He-"

"No need," Carol said, waving off the unneeded apology. "Besides, it could have been worse."

Harry could swear that there was a slight huskiness to his mom's voice, though, it was barely detectable. He could also swear that she was occasionally glancing at him from across the table.

"Even so…" Mrs Weasley glared warningly at Fred, who gulped at the error of his ways. She then brightened considerably. "Well, time to eat."

Harry dug into the food, while occasionally passing around a dish or two. The food was beyond heavenly, and he soon found himself having third portions. Yet, even as he enjoyed the food, Harry would still occasionally glance at his mom, who would simultaneously glance away. This repeated several times throughout the dinner, and the tension grew thicker. The plunging neckline of Carol's dress gave Harry an excellent view on the breasts he had fondled almost two months ago.

"Hey, Harry! What do you think of the Cannons beaters?" Ron asked him between each bite of a turkey leg.

"Don't listen to him, Harry. The Cannons are a rubbish team," Ginny piped in, and Harry would have been impressed that she barely turned red… if he had been paying either of the Weasleys any attention.

Instead, Harry was actively trying to resist the urge to stare at his mom's cleavage. He could still vividly remember the feeling of those incredible breasts, and how she had grinded her ass against his crotch.

"I don't know about the Cannons beaters," his mom began with a thoughtful look on her face. Harry almost jumped from his seat when he felt her leg brush tentatively against his own. She gave him a devilish grin. "But I say beaters are essential to a Quidditch team."

"What makes you say that?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows. Ginny was also intrigued.

"Well." Harry shivered involuntarily, as he felt her leg travel upwards and felt her bare foot rub against his crotch. She licked her lips flirtatiously at him. "Beaters know how to properly handle their bats."

Luckily, none of the Weasleys had caught the sexual innuendo. Unfortunately for Harry, he was now sporting an erection in his jeans which was further exacerbated by Carol's rubbing motions.

"Valid point," Ron agreed with a shrug of his shoulders.

He continued to devour the rest of his Christmas dinner as did everybody else; whereas, Harry was eating slowly and trying desperately not to cum in his pants. As a result, Harry was the last to finish his meal, even when Carol had gone to join the Weasleys outside for a cup of hot cocoa. After making sure that his erection had gone down, he joined them outside with a cup of the beverage.

"Thanks for dinner, Molly. It was delicious," Carol stated with a smile.

The air outside was cold, and if it wasn't for her biology, Carol would have been freezing in that dress.

"Not a problem, dear. It was a pleasure having you and Harry at the Burrow," Molly said, with Arthur's arm wrapped over her shoulder. The Weasley kids were currently having a snowball war against each other (but mostly the twins). "You and Harry are always welcome at the Burrow."

The snowball war ended when Bill and Charlie were declared winners, although the twins did put up quite a fight. Exhausted from all of the fun, the Weasleys headed inside, leaving Harry and Carol standing outside. Mother and son stared at each other — the former with unbridled lust in her eyes, while the latter was ripping himself apart on what to do.

Carol didn't know what was going on with her. Here she was dressed like some sort of escort and flirting with her son! A small part of Carol was mortified. On the other hand, most of her kept insisting that Harry wasn't really her son, and that it was okay to do what she — no, _they_ — needed to do.

At the same time, Harry was fighting a losing battle. His mom was an incredibly beautiful woman. Even a blind, gay man would be able to see that. Furthermore, he had noticed how she kept eyeing him throughout dinner — stripping him with her eyes — and using her bare foot to tease his cock. Said cock was now hardening again and making a visible dent in his jeans.

The erection did not go unnoticed, and Carol smiled knowingly down at it. She took a step closer to him, until mother and son were merely inches apart from each other. Carol bent down slightly, so that she could whisper into Harry's ear.

"Is that for me?" Harry shivered at the close proximity; he could feel his mom's warm breath hit his ear. "Is that for mommy?"

He gulped in anticipation.

"Is that for mommy?" Carol repeated faintly and then gazed directly into Harry's eyes. Blue met green and were lost in each other. "Does mommy make you hard?"

Harry couldn't believe that this was happening. The woman who had raised him since he was six years old was going to give him a blowjob. His heart rate quickened, as Carol unzipped his jeans and began lowering his boxer shorts at an agonizingly slow pace. Harry waited with bated breath, as her fingers reached into his boxer shorts. She was about to take out his-

Suddenly, both Harry and Carol were blasted backwards in to the Burrow. Fortunately, the blast merely winded them, and the two recovered quickly. For now, all sexual feelings were put aside, as they faced their mysterious attacker.

"How are you alive!?" Carol demanded forcefully.

Hovering several feet in the air in front of them was the Ms Marvel clone. Upon closer inspection, Carol noticed that the clone's stabbed eye had been replaced.

"Not important. But what _is_ important, though, is that we get rid of you," the clone directed at the mother and son.

The Weasleys were now surrounding Harry and Carol; all of them (even those underage) had their wands out and ready.

"We?" Harry repeated and narrowed his eyes at the clone.

Ms Marvel smirked evilly. It was a truly hideous expression on such a beautiful face.

"We."

Within an instant, up to a dozen clones of Carol Danvers came out from their hiding spots at supersonic speeds. The clones ranged from a couple years younger than 'Ms Marvel', to their mid-teens. All of them were borderline feral and grabbed onto everybody's arms before anybody could even react; their wands scattered uselessly across the ground.

"I will let your friends go, but only IF the both of you will sacrifice yourselves."

"Don't do it, mate!" Ron shouted, only to yelp in pain when the clone holding his arms squeezed painfully. The sound of creaking bones could be heard.

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF MY SON!" Molly screamed and desperately struggled to break free, to no avail.

"Bring that boy here!" Ms Marvel growled to the clone holding Ron.

Ron was dragged by his arms towards Ms Marvel, who was inspecting the redhead boy with a bored expression.

"And why would Harry be friends with you?" she questioned with a slight sneer.

With a burst of super-speed, Ms Marvel wrapped the fingers of her right hand around Ron's neck. She then began to squeeze with just enough force for Ron's face to gradually start turning purple, despite his attempts to pry off her fingers. The rest of the Weasleys struggled with all of their might from their captives, and Carol was about to take a step forwards and intervene, when the movement of the clones acted as a warning.

"Let him go," Carol demanded in tranquil fury. Her hardened eyes scanned the 'battlefield' for a plan. To her pride, she noticed that Harry was doing the same. "It's me you want."

"Only if you and your _son_ ," Ms Marvel said the word with disgust. "Sacrifice yourselves. Only then will we let the Weasleys go."

As Ms Marvel was strangling the life out of Ron, she failed to notice his dramatic change in body language. Ron's blue eyes were closed, and he was no longer fighting to get free. By the time Ms Marvel had noticed the change, it was already too late.

It all happened so fast.

One moment, Ms Marvel was strangling the life out of Ron. In the next moment, Ron's eyes had snapped open but gone where the blue and replaced with eyes filled with fire. It was the fire before the very beginning, and it was the fire that would burn the Universe at its end. The fire was power of creation itself and dwarfed Gods.

This was the Phoenix Force.

As the fires erupted out from within Ron, it easily consumed Ms Marvel and each of the clones, while not harming any of the Weasleys or Harry and Carol. At that moment in time, all of the clones felt true, incomprehensible power and were humbled by it. If anybody had been flying over the area, they would have seen a fiery phoenix consume and incinerate the clones with breathtaking ease.

All of this occurred in the span of less than two minutes.

"W-What just happened?" George asked shell-shocked.

In fact, the whole family were frozen at what had happened. On the other hand, Harry and Carol were less so, because the feeling of dread was dominant in their minds, even as they helped Ron – unconscious and floating in midair – down to the ground again.

"Your son… is the vessel for one of the most powerful forces in the Universe," Carol stated carefully.

Mother and son exchanged a look with each other; both of them supporting each of Ron's arms. Shit was going to hit the fan.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to update regularly, as I have the entire story panned out. As you may have noticed, the timeline has been moved forwards. Therefore, for example, Harry was born in 2010 and will be thirteen in 2023 (when the next chapter will take place). I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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